Night's Sky
by Scari
Summary: They are a microcosm, though they don't admit it; brought together by hatred, friendship, or unusual "circumstances" and connected by the knowledge of secrets they were never meant to discover. One loves day, one loves night, the other loves nothing.
1. Wind

**This is my first fanfic. I am dedicating it to the wonderful Katherine Kuran, because she is the reason I wrote this story in the first place, and has been my inspiration for a lot of the ideas in here. The next chapter should be longer. Summaries are very hard. I do not like them, Sam I am.**

You hear people all the time saying they wish they were more like the wind: fast, free, and careless. Controversially, people complain about their loneliness or the dislike others feel for them. These are also traits of the wind. People dislike the biting cold wind often brings, and the wind, I'd imagine, is quite alone. I would think being the wind would only be glorious at those times when people stand and laugh, their arms spread wide like they are hoping to be carried into the air, and the wind dances through their hair and plays with the grass at their feet. I've always loved standing up to the wind, and it's this beautiful picture that drifts through my dreams.

I open my eyes reluctantly, more than willing to stay in the lush meadows of my sub conscience. The moon outside my window is full, and its slight glow illuminates a sliver of the floor through thick white curtains. I can just make out the sleeping figure in the bed across from mine. Rima, my older sister, her breathing deep and calm, lies in that bed. I sigh and roll away from her; my perfect sister. Her eyes shine with an innocent beauty; her features are soft and fair. She looks like a porcelain doll with her strawberry blonde hair up in ribbons.

I'm feeling more awake now, and a little bit hungry. I reach out a pale hand for the container on my bedside table and pull out a blood tablet. They aren't quite as satisfying as fresh blood, but they dull my craving and quiet my stomach.

Rima murmurs in her sleep and shifts. I stiffen despite myself. I don't want to wake her; Dad would be upset. I pull my blankets over my head and wait in silence for the night to pull Rima out of her slumber. I've always wished I were more like Rima. She is always a little bit better than me, her grades are a fraction of a point higher, and she has always been prettier than me, but what wrenches my heart most is how much my parents love her. Dad always calls her his little angel, giving her hugs and smiling that joyous smile which he reserves solely for her, filled with warmth, love, and kindness. Mum still loves to brush Rima's beautiful long hair, whispering praises to her. Rima really does look like a doll in her dresses. She could be a model; Mum is always reminding us.

I hear Rima stirring through the darkness and lower the blankets from over my head. I remember a time when I was younger, I used to follow my sister everywhere she went, trying to be like her, trying to make her notice me. Her calm indifference to my presence is what ended my admiration for her. I had long hoped to be admired by her in turn, and I probably still do.

I admit it. I'm terribly jealous of Rima.

I yawn enormously, swinging my legs over the side of my bed. Rima's sitting up now, her clear blue eyes fixed straight ahead. Rima usually takes a moment to fully awaken, and her "Good Morning" is groggy. My greeting is cold and half hearted. I hadn't meant to let my jealousy creep through my words, but I've never been able to tuck my feelings away like Rima can. My sister doesn't seem to notice, but it's hard to tell with her, she wouldn't say anything either way. I draw the curtains from our large bay window, letting the moon's rays leak onto the dark floor, banishing the darkness into shadows, now crouching in wait under the beds and dressers. Rima leaves the room, her ribbons undone and falling loosely across her back.

I hear the lock click on our shared en suite bathroom and Rimas' shuffling on the other side of the door. I lift my night robe over my messy hair and pull on a blue and black striped shirt, succeeding in ruffling my hair even more. I drag a brush through the thick locks in earnest before pulling on a pair of sweat pants. I need to be slightly presentable before I head downstairs.

My parents are either out, or still sleeping. Whichever it is, they aren't in the main hall when I peer over the hall railing. I run my hands along the banister, feeling its smooth texture and examining the pearly white marble that makes up most of our house. It's cold on my bare skin, a shock from the warmth of my soft bed. I slide down the stairs, my socks slipping away slowly. I don't feel any need to rush; I have nothing planned for tonight.

I open the main door, steeling a glance at the moon. It's so much more beautiful without the shield of our windows' thick glass. I sigh and step out into the night, running a hand through my long hair, my gaze fixed at the sky. The moon is encircled with many pinpricks of light and I reach out a hand as though to pull them out of sky. The stars are reflected on the smooth surface of the fountain outside our house, its marbled exterior in sharp relief against the dark lawns of our estate. I sit at the fountains side, gliding a hand through the water. My touch ripples the surface, making the sky's reflection quiver and dance on the water's surface.

I lose track of the time sitting on the fountains edge, my hands playing with the pure water, letting it slide through my fingers. I find myself wishing every aspect of life were this serene, but I eventually slip back through the door of the mansion and, in turn, drag myself back into reality.

My sister is gliding down the stairs, in a beautiful black and white dress and black stockings. Her hair is tied in black bows, their ends falling in with her light hair. More bows decorate her dress, and she holds a rose coloured parasol in her dainty fingers, twirling it slightly and smiling.

"Sora," She says in her soft voice, eyes travelling over my hap hazard attire. "You are being allowed to attend tonight's ball. You should wear something more formal, I think." She drifts past me into a side room, heeled shoes tapping the marble rhythmically.

I watch her go, feeling immense joy flood my body. Vampires fourteen years of age and older were permitted to attend these glamorous parties, and I had always been made to stay home, since I had only turned fourteen the previous month. When the balls were held in our own ball room, I would stay in my room and listen to the muffled chatter drifting through the door, longing for the day I would attend a ball with my sister and the other Vampire children who were old enough.

I laugh under my breath as I hurtle up the stairs, ready to take out the dress I had prepared so long ago, the banister's marble surface feeling suddenly warm with my excitement. I feel as though the world had just opened itself to me, presenting numerous opportunities and experiences, my views of life became suddenly very optimistic. My jealousies for Rima are forgotten along with my wishes for a more serene world. Now, images of dancing and socializing seemed to make up my views of utopia. I feel air twist through my hair as I run to my room.

I twirl, letting the wind I created swirl around me. The wind, I presume, is in for a glorious evening, twisting around all the dancers and being born through their laughter, lifting elite's hair in great swirls, ruffling the fabric of beautiful dresses.

**This is the part were you review. Love it? Hate it? I want to know, either way!**


	2. Dreams

**You cannot begin to understand how positively thrilled reviews make me feel. Sora means "sky" in Japanese, just in case you wanted to know. This chapter is also dedicated to Katherine Kuran because she is wonderful and my friend Zoia because I say so. Please review, even if it's anonymously! **

**Dreams**

I put a hand on the doorknob of the bathroom door, panting slightly from my dash up the stairs and from dancing in my room. The door swings open when I twist the knob and I stroll inside, glancing at the mirror over the double sink and vanity. My reflection beams at me, cheeks flushed and choppy blonde bangs covering azure eyes.

I lean into the mirror, hands on either side of a white basin sink with a set of gold faucets. I look slightly wild; my hair is uneven from a bad haircut I gave myself in anger a while back. It has never grown back evenly, and I've grown used to the unusualness of my appearance.

I pull off my clothes and step over the lip of the large bathtub, planning to wash my hair before the ball. I hum contentedly as warm water cascades down my back, clumps of hair sticking to my face and shoulders.

I climb back over the lip of the tub, wiggling my toes in the mat and wrapping a towel around my shoulders. I shiver slightly in the open air, wanting to stay under the warm spray of water, but there isn't any hot water left, Rima used a hefty amount of it in her shower.

I rake long fingers through my wet hair, and then pull out a hair dryer. My water darkened hair returns to its usual jonquil, the hot air from my hair dryer pushing it around my face. I try to find a simile for my hair as I stand there in my towel. My hair is like: I don't know what it is like. Rima's is like spun gold, but mine is dryer looking, lighter and faded. It looks like dead grass. This isn't a very happy thought, so I brush it away, trying to find something else to compare it to.

When I'm finished brushing my teeth and drying my hair, I wander out of the bathroom, feeling very light and carefree. Digging through my closet, my fingers come in contact with a silken fabric, smooth and liquid. I pull it off its rack, admiring how light and soft it is. It mirrors my emotions perfectly. I can't count the amount of times I've pulled this dress out of my closet just to feel the soft fabric in my hands, just to admire the deep ebony, punctuated by intricate alabaster designs. I love this dress more than any other article of clothing I own, and have been saving it for my first Ball.

My eyes travel over Rima's half of the room, resting on her jewellery box. It's overflowing with beautiful necklaces and bracelets, earrings and rings. My jewellery box is rather feeble; I've never had much want for jewellery. Until now, that is. I don't have any particularly nice trinkets, as most of them are rejects of Rima's.

There is one particular necklace in her box that catches my eye. It is a silver locket, decorated with scarlet roses. Rima has never worn it, so I have been waiting for her to toss it on my bed, waiting to find it there, dejected and unwanted, and fasten it around my neck. It sparkles in the moonlight, sparking longing in my heart. It would top off my dress so beautifully; blend perfectly with the red tights buried in my sock drawer.

I pull the dress over my head, the texture smooth and pleasant against my skin. I should be satisfied with what I already have; really, I don't need a gorgeous locket. I pull the cardinal tights out of my drawer, hopping on one foot while I drag them over the other. I giggle a little. I probably look ridiculous, hopping on the spot like this.

My good mood is infectious. Rima smiles subtly when I join her in the main hall. I perch on a marble stair, one hand on the cool white railing. Rima and I wait for the first knock on our door. The Ball is being held in the Touya Ball Room, which, of course, is ours.

My stomach twists a little at the first ringing knock. I really need to work on keeping my emotions in check. Rima doesn't bat an eyelash as several C-level aristocrats waltz into our hall, long dresses sweeping the polished floor and shined shoes clicking minutely. One boy bends to kiss Rima's hand, his eyes never leaving her face. She stands perfectly still, barely acknowledging his presence. I smile at him apologetically, noting the hurt look on his face.

Vampires of various levels pour into our Ball Room, and I slip into the masses, smiling a little as they dance and talk. It feels nice to be a part of the scene, to see it with my own eyes, instead of playing it in my head. The fake memories of my day dreaming had become precious, but I know these memories will overlap them. This is real, not the product of an overactive imagination.

I have only been amidst the crowds for a second before I spot a familiar head bobbing through the dance floor. My father, a tall, fair haired man of medium build, his arms around my mother, who is equally fair, are watching as Rima approaches them, pigtails bouncing slightly and eyes sparkling. Father embraces Rima, apologizing profusely for his absence at sun down. Rima wraps her slender arms around his waist, her lips brushing his pointed face before pulling back, a slight smile gracing her features. Mother takes Rima's hand and thanks her for greeting the guests, also smiling proudly. Dad offers a hand to Rima, leading her into the centre of the dance floor and stepping into rhythm with the rest of the dancers.

I lift my eyes to the ceiling, where a crystal chandelier hangs, the ceiling seeming to melt towards it, gold and ivory and unreachable. Like my parents. Rima brings joy to our father, catches all the pride of our mother and holds them in the palm of her dainty hand, letting them wrap around her long fingers.

Something attracts my attention, in the form of a young red head tapping my father on the shoulder, a passive expression verging on indifference in his crystal blue eyes. I watch, mildly interested, as he takes my sister's hands out of my reluctant father's and twirls her, that apathetic look still glued to his features. My sister is equally as expressionless, gliding to the music in his arms. I can later detect the slightest smile touching both dancers' faces as the music plays on, and Rima says something to the boy, who I can identify as Shiki Senri, one of the Aido faction. I know that he and my sister have known each other a long time, but I've never participated in their sand box games or in any other meetings of the vampire children, and am not very well acquainted with any of them.

I start as a light hand rests on my shoulder, warm breath brushing my neck.

"Doesn't Rima look nice in her dress, Sora? Like a princess?" A tranquil voice floats from behind me, my mother's. She has such a beautiful voice, and I smile. Yes, Rima does look like a princess, and Shiki looks like a prince. Everyone here looks very royal and elegant; Rima and Shiki fit in beautifully, like real aristocrats.

I look down at me feet, my red stockings suddenly seeming very bright and out of place amidst all the white, black and cream. My mother's hand remains on my shoulder, and I am almost grateful. I love my mother's kind voice and her gentleness, even if it's usually directed at Rima. My father strolls over to us, takes my mother's hand and draws her onto the dance floor, leaving me standing there alone. I watch vampires dancing and talking, wanting to join the festivities, but feeling at a loss as to _how. _Everyone under that unattainable ceiling seems equally unattainable, as out of my reach as my parents.

I decide to simply observe the other vampires, eyes drifting over many unrecognizable faces, vaguely felicitous expressions mingled with haughtiness in the more confident individuals. My gaze rests on Shiki and Rima again. I watch as Shiki pulls out a box of candy, handing a stick to Rima. Pocky, Rima's favourite. I gather myself, take a deep breath, and approach them. The corners of Rima's mouth twitch when I stop in front of them, but I know her better than to take it as happiness. The slight change in expression is almost mocking, but I'm not vexed, Rima never means any harm.

Shiki turns to me, mild, almost unnoticeable, interest in his steely eyes. He's standing behind Rima, one hand on her bare shoulder, a few strands of red hair hiding his pale face. Rima turns back to him, taking his hands in her own and pulling him back into a dance.

I'm used to Rima ignoring me, but that was a little much.

My Mother and Father are dancing a little ways off, their movements perfectly choreographed. I tap my foot, wishing, for the first time in my life, that I had interacted more with the other vampires who were Rima's friends. I can see some of them in a corner of the Ball Room, talking idly. A girl I recognize as Ruka flips her long flax hair, watching something over her shoulder. I follow her gaze, wondering what has attracted her attention.

A tall dark haired boy, the bored look that is so common among upper class vampires predictably etched in his features, had just entered the Ball Room. Kaname Kuran, dark hair contrasting against his pale skin: the last pureblood. His presence is commanding and confident beyond the regular for aristocrats, and he holds the gaze of almost everyone in the Ball Room, including my own.

My father rushes to greet him, as well as my mother and several council members. He smiles politely at them, tolerating their intrusive presence. I watch him for a moment, before turning back to Ruka. She keeps flipping her hair, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, eyes glued on Kaname. Her intentions are blatantly obvious, which is strange in vampires: we're typically masters at hiding our emotions. My gaze travels to the other vampires standing near her. I recognized the cousins, Kain, and Aido; both blonde and blue eyed, and Ichijo; enthusiastic and content. Kain glances repeatedly at Ruka, who continues her attempts at catching Kaname's attention, and Ichijo is watching Shiki and Rima, a smile playing at his lips.

My eyes wander to Aido, and are met with his piercing cobalt gaze. I realize I'd been staring, and avert my gaze. I wish I had someone to dance with, as I am getting tired of observing the attendees. The Ball is proving lacklustre compared to my expectations, and I find myself craving another blood tablet. They are only a floor away, sitting on my bed side table; it wouldn't hurt to go grab one... or two.

My head swivels around the room nervously as I start for the door, feeling as though I am betraying some agreement by leaving, but I twist the door knob and slip out of the room despite the feeling. Once in the main hall, I realize how crowded the Ball Room had been. It is freeing to stand by myself for a while, and my craving for blood begins to disappear. I hadn't realized the nervousness that had nestled into my stomach before it began to creep away.

I sigh, disappointed that the Ball hadn't been what I'd hoped. My feet move to the door of their own accord, and before I know it, I am perched at the edge of the fountain, playing with the stars' reflections again and watching the moon. Whenever my expectations aren't fulfilled, my mood is low, or I want to be alone, I end up sitting on this fountain. The tinkle of falling water is somehow comforting, soothing, in a sense. The night is beginning to lighten, and my eyelids feel heavy and burdened. All previous events drifting silently away, fading into the night, twisting with the din leaking from the Ball Room, disappearing into an unknown store for conscious thoughts and being replaced with dreams, tangling fact with fiction and creating strange fantasy worlds, the likes of which would confuse and amaze, if only we could remember them when we awaken.

**Once again, I'm going to have to ask you to review. It's important, really, it is.**


	3. Eyes

**I have finally figured out exactly what's going to happen in this story, so plot should develop faster now. Review or you get no virtual cookies. Like, ever. At least not from me. Dedicated to Katherine Kuran because she is wonderful.**

**Eyes**

I wake up to something tickling my cheek and a soft voice whispering in my ear; the wind, trailing through my hair and chilling my exposed skin. I lift my head, reality descending slowly into my mind. It doesn't seem as though much time has passed since I had first drifted off, and the Ball seems to be continuing inside. I had only planned to rest my head for a minute, close my eyes and breathe in the night before returning, hopefully with the confidence to dance with someone.

I sigh, running a hand along the fountain next to me, before picking myself up off the ground and making for the mansion door. My unexpected nap makes me realize how tired I really was; the Ball seems to stretch endlessly into the night. I never dance with a soul, instead, as I seem to be doing quite often, I watch the people around me.

And they watch me.

Or rather, Aido watches me. Deep blue eyes meet blue eyes, while I turn away from the eye contact, his gaze never falters. I feel my cheeks become warm when our eyes meet, wondering why he's staring so intently.

Ruka stalks over to him, looking smug. Her whispers drift through the crowd to my ears, and I can hear every word she says. I wonder if she meant it that way, her honey coloured eyes trained on me, lips tipped to Aido's ear.

"She thinks you like her, look at her blush! She probably thinks you want to dance with her!" I can detect traces of amusement in her sweet voice. Honey eyes, honeyed voice, stinging words. I look away, choosing to ignore the other vampires. Shiki and Rima are still dancing, expressions unreadable.

The evening wanes and pinpricks of light decorate the floor. Our guests fold away through the door, and I am left standing in the middle of the room, twirling a lock of hair on my finger, watching Rima say her goodbyes to Shiki. He hugs her briefly, turns on his heel and follows the rest of the vampires out of the Ball Room, hair shining under the new morning sun. I follow Rima to our room, ready to close my eyes and block out the faint sunlight creeping through the curtains.

Rima reaches for the curtains I had previously opened, dragging them across the window and covering the red and gold tinged skies of dawn. She pulls the black ribbons from her hair, setting them down on her bedside table with a small sigh. We undress in silence, swallowing a few blood tablets each before pulling comforters over our heads and turning our backs to each other.

A tree branch taps methodically against the window pane, a few droplets of rain joining its sombre beat against my thoughts.

I wish I could've danced with someone.

_Tap._

Why did Ruka have to be so cruel?

_Tap._

The image of Rima, her arms folded around Shiki's thin frame, plays through my head, the tapping of the branch outside becoming the clack of their feet on the Ball Room floor. Rima always gets what I can't have, beautiful silver lockets, a dance partner... but was that what was bothering me, really? Shiki's face, that vague curiosity in his crystalline eyes, burgundy hair brushing against his cheeks, one hand on Rima's shoulder, invades my mind's eye. Rima really does always get what I can't have. I'll never have the attention of Shiki, he'll never wear a smile as he dances with me, because he'll never dance with me...

Tap, tap, tap, tap...

_I can hear the steady beat of someone's shoes ahead of me, clicking on the pavement. I follow, sliding behind buildings so as to hide myself from her worried backward glances. I wonder how fresh blood would taste, and my fingers itch in anticipation. I hurry behind the girl, who seems not much older than I am... 15 maybe, 16? I grab her arm, letting my nails brush across the human flesh. A few drops of crimson liquid shine on my finger, and she spins to face me, fear burning in her eyes._

_"I-I'm sorry!" I stutter, eyeing the blood on my finger. "There were people following me... I-I was scared! I was wondering where a hotel might be, so I could get out of the streets; I've never been out this late before." I can be a wonderful actor when I want to be._

_The girl's features relax when she sees my youth. Thirteen year olds aren't scary. She begins to point me in the direction of a hotel, and I lift my finger to my lips. It must be wonderful; so many vampires have said it is. Illegal, but I just want a taste; I'm not going to hurt her, it's just a scratch on the arm, she won't even notice._

_So why am I so nervous?_

_I taste the blood on my finger. Oh. OH. It is better than I'd expected. My lips lift, showing my pointed teeth. I fight to keep my mouth shut, but it is hard controlling myself. _

This is why it's illegal! _The thought flashes through my mind. I want _more, _and I want it badly. The girl turns to me and gasps, startled, before saying a hurried goodbye and speed walking down the street._

_I turn to the store window I am standing next to and am greeted by my reflection, eyes glowing like embers, white teeth bared in a snarl, finger lifted to my lips. I take a deep breath. _

_This is why it's illegal!_

I roll over, sighing. I have to stop thinking about that night, that night when I snuck out under the cover of darkness and tasted the blood of a human. I know it was a mistake. But blood tablets taste like chalk in comparison to the warm, salty... I can feel my lips lifting. Stop thinking about it.

I reach out and snatch the container of blood tablets from my bedside table, dumping a few onto my pale hand. They still taste like chalk. I sigh and pull the blankets over my head, wishing sleep would take me, so the craving would go away.

Eventually, it did. I can't remember falling asleep, but the darkness around me confirms that hours have passed. Rima's bed is empty and the curtains are open. I sit on the window sill and gaze at the moon, ivory and bright. I've always thought the shape of the moon is like the ying and the yang, dark and light twisting together.

My hand reaches unconsciously for the container on my bedside table, fingers stretching out for yet another blood tablet. The container is empty. I groan and slide off the window sill, running a hand through my hair in frustration. I don't want to go downstairs and get more, because then my parents would know I've been taking more than what's average for a vampire.

I descend the stair case slowly, yawning. Voices drift out of door to my right: my Mother's and Rima's. I push open the door, not bothering to knock. My mother is perched on the window seat, leaning against several champagne pillows. My father stands next to her, one hand on the window sill. Both are smiling warmly at Rima, who is sitting in one of the cream armchairs on the other side of the room.

I drop into another pale arm chair and listen to their conversation.

"As I was saying, we feel this is a wonderful opportunity for you. Souen, Ichijo, Aido, Kain, Seiren and Kuran will be joinging you." My father brushes his hand against his chin as he says this, looking pensive. "We believe your attendance to Cross Academy will be a help for Cross' idea. He wants vampires and humans to live in harmony, and we agree whole heartedly."

Rima nods. "And Shiki is not coming?" she asks.

"He has yet to register, but I heard that he may be going. It remains unknown." My mother informs her softly, pushing a lock of golden hair behind her ear.

Rima nods again.

"Sora," My mother turns to me, "Rima will be staying with your aunt for the rest of the year. She will then be attending Cross Academy, as you have heard." She lies back on the cushions.

"And I will be staying here?" I ask them, although I already know I will be.

"Yes, Sora. You are too young to go to Boarding School." My mother says, her gaze held by the world outside our mansion.

"I'm not much younger than Rima." I protest, not out of a want to go to the school, but simply to make it known.

"Fourteen months, Sora. You will be old enough next year." My father brushes his hand against my mother's rosy cheek. He knows I wasn't trying to make him let me go. It was empty conversation, going through the paces, battling simply to be talking to each other.

I stand, pushing my hands into my pocket. The container in my pocket bumps against my palm and I am reminded of my predicament. I need to ask my parents for more blood tablets.

"Mum, Dad," I start, feeling slightly nervous. At a normal rate, I shouldn't be half way through the tablets yet. "Could I have a refill of... blood tablets, please?"

My mother watches me for a second, one slender eyebrow raised quizzically. "Sure, you can." She hesitates for a moment before taking my container and exiting the room.

I sigh. She was obviously suspicious, but I am glad she hadn't asked any questions. I leave the side room before my father can ask me about it, and I can feel his eyes on my retreating back. Predictably, I head straight for the fountain outside our house.

Rima is on her way to our Aunt Maria's before leaving for boarding school at Cross Academy. I wonder who Cross is, and about his idea about vampires and humans living together peacefully. I wonder if that meant humans would freely give their blood in return for our restraint from taking it forcefully.

I run a hand through the cool water, contemplating this. If Rima's attendance would help gear a project such as this one, perhaps mine would help also? And would the humans there be donating blood to the vampires? Suddenly, I can't wait for next year to attend.

Blame it on the blood lust.

**Everyone who reviews, aside from being eligible for virtual cookies, gets a virtual hug! Who wouldn't want one of those?**


	4. Goodbye

**I am soooo sorry for how late this is! My computer got a virus and I couldn't finish this chapter! **

**Dedicated to Katherine Kuran, as always! There is something I need to tell you. It is a horrible confession. I get all my ideas in the shower. Yeah. R****eview, the cookies want to be eaten. And be prepared for angst. **

**Goodbye**

As promised, Rima left for our Aunt's the following week, and our room became my room. Her side of the room remains immaculate; I never stray away from my own side, which is left messy and unkempt. Her side of the room feels strangely forbidden to me, the neatly folded sheets and empty drawers silently singing out their abandonment. The emptiness of the large room is strange to me, and I feel very alone. Even though Rima and I had never really talked or genuinely enjoyed each other's presence, she had always been solid company I could depend on. She was always there, silent and apathetic, but there. Now, I have no one. My parents are often out socializing with other aristocrats, and I am usually left at home. When they are here, they are usually missing Rima. I miss her in a different way.

I had never realized how very large our house was, how the rooms stretch on endlessly, how voices echo off the walls. I feel very small in such a huge space. There is only one advantage to my parents near constant absence: they have, somewhat reluctantly, allowed me to refill my blood tablets without going to them first. I guzzle them faster than I ever have before, now that I am free of restraint. I know my parents are still suspicious about how quickly I had gone through my other containers, but I can be very persuasive when I need to be.

I drift through the main hall, sliding on the buffed floor in my socks. A sudden knocking fills the room, wrenching me out of my thoughts. I jump, slipping and nearly falling in surprise, before patting down my messy hair and twisting the golden door handle.

A tall figure stands there, framed by carmine hair, expression unreadable. My heart stops for a second, or maybe more. I don't know how long I stand there, eyes tracing his perfect features, one hand still on the door knob.

"May I speak to Rima?" Shiki asks softly, watching a place somewhere a foot over my shoulder.

"She's staying with our Aunt, before going to Cross Academy." I say, wondering if I'm allowed to relay this information to him.

"Of course. Perhaps I will join her." He looks at me for the first time since I answered the door. "Good day, Sora." He then turns away and stalks down the path and around a corner.

I watch him until he is out of sight before closing the door. Of course he had come for Rima. I trudge up the stairs, in the empty house that doesn't feel like a home, to the empty room that doesn't feel like the sanctuary it is supposed to be, sprawl across the bed that doesn't feel as warm as it should, stare at the covers that are thinner than I remember, back when I had human company; a solid presence, instead of this loneliness.

I curl into the blankets, burying my nose in their dark depths, hiding from the world. My life has taken a turn for the worse, and I genuinely dislike spending all my time alone. I never really acknowledge my family's presence, but I need it. And yet, here I am, tucked away in my bed in a gigantic empty house, wondering where the world has gone, listening to the silence and the steady pat of rain on my window.

I drift to sleep, still wrapped in the nest of blankets, clutching my legs to my chest, choppy hair falling into my blue eyes.

_Bang._

My eyes snap open and I fumble to extract myself from the tangled blankets, startled. I listen attentively, wondering what had made the sound. I can vaguely hear the creak of the door's hinges, and I wonder if my parents are home. The door slams shut, creating a similar bang to the previous one. I assume it was caused by the door connecting with the wall as it opened, and I wonder what would make my parents want to enter the house so violently and noisily.

I still feel a little suspicious, and lower my bare feet to the cold floor, clutching a blanket around my shoulders. I argue against myself, rooted to the floor. Should I go downstairs and investigate, or crawl back into my bed? I settle for the former and inch across the floor, eyes narrowed in the faint sunlight creeping in through my curtains.

The twist of my door knob seems deafening in the tense silence surrounding me. I creep out of my room, marvelling at how bright the house is midday. The marble seems to sparkle in the sunlight and is warm under my fingers. I tip toe down the stairs, eyes searching for the door under the glare of the sun managing to seep through curtained windows. I reach out for the handle, testing the lock. The door swings without resistance.

My parents must have come home. I am certain that I had locked the door after Shiki had left. I wander the halls, wondering where my parents had gone, trying to be as silent as possible as my suspicions grow. I creep along the third floor, a hand raised over my eyes to block out the sun. A door to my left waits ajar, and I push it open slowly, peering around the door frame.

I release a breath I hadn't known I'd been holding, and the world outside seems to do the same. A gust of wind rattles the crystal windows, pushing a large gray cloud over the sun. I lower my hand now that the blinding glare of sunlight is gone, and crumple to the floor, unable to hold in a petrified gasp or a sudden rush of tears, brimming over my cheeks like liquid pearls.

I turn away, horrified at what I've seen. Two beautiful, fair, delicate people, blonde hair flowing over the floor and stained with scarlet blood, fearful looks permanently fixed on their features in death.

My parents.

I tear out of the room, sobs pulling at my lungs and my legs weak. I want to get away, as far away as possible. I don't stop for a second to wonder where their murderer is, I simply swing open the large double doors and jump into the sunlight, collapsing next to my fountain, brushing a hand through the water in fierce emotion.

The rain turns to thick snow, the temperature drops and my fountain freezes over, crackling with ice in unison with my fixed feelings.

Sadness, fear, hatred, anger.

A firm need for _revenge_.

I try desperately to compose myself, try to breathe regularly, instead of in tight, restricted gasps. I can barely feel the intense cold in all my inner pain. Snow builds steadily around my ankles as I sit with my back to the fountain, screaming out all my grief.

When I feel like I can stand, I begin to trudge across the grounds, wanting to put as much distance as possible between myself and the scene of my parents' death.

I labour through the ever deepening snow, my eyes red and itching from salt from my tears. I shiver in the cold, hugging myself and tripping occasionally.

I don't know where I'm going, and I don't think about it. My shoulders rattle and a harsh wind blows my hair into my face and stings my bare legs and arms. I trudge on for an uncountable amount of time and the snow gradually turns to rain, the temperature raising enough to melt the snowflakes from my eye lashes and send their liquid remnants dripping down the ends of my hair.

My legs tire and I sink to my knees in the piled snow. My eyes close, and my mind blanks. Brief flashes of warmth run through my conscience, mingled with soft whispers of words I can't make out and faces that are blurred and out of focus.

**OOOOOO vhat vill happen?**

**If you review, I will give a virtual cookie to you. See how much I love you? I rhyme. That is proof of my infinite love for you. **


	5. The Unfamiliar

**My computer was just fixed and I can now work on this, I'm so sorry for delay. You can blame my meanie computer.**

**The Unfamiliar**

I had passed out wrapped in winter's cruel clutches, numb with cold and out of breath from screaming my parents' undeserved fate, and now I am reasonably warm and huddled in a nest of blankets. For a fleeting moment I think I had dreamed of the previous night's events, and am still wrapped in my own comforter in my own bed, but as my lashes flicked open, I am greeted by a very different scene.

I am lying in a large queen bed, surrounded by thick red satin bed curtains, which are supported by cherry wood posts. All the blankets and pillows are a pure white silk and the bed itself is large enough for three of me to sleep comfortably. The nightgown I wear is not my own and is decorated with a hefty amount of blue lace. I lift a hand to my eyes, glad that they no longer sting with the salt of my tears. My chest aches with sorrow, the remnants of all the pain I had released through tears the night before.

I close my eyes and sigh, listening to the soft tap of rain on a window somewhere outside the bed curtains. The weather has been persistently gloomy lately, with near constant rain.

And snow.

Snow falling, cold and wet, as my mother's beautiful form lay spread before my eyes, hair twisting around her perfect face, clinging to her still moist lips and dyed red with blood; snow resting innocently upon frozen ground as my father lay next to her, his face filled with fear.

Fresh tears spring to my eyes, the emotion I was trying to suppress leaking out as it always does. I pull my knees to my chest and lean back on the strong head of the large bed, and the rain taps faster on the window.

Eventually I wipe away the last of my tears and curiosity grips me. I pull back the curtains surrounding me, wondering where I am and who had taken me inside from the cold.

I am greeted by two blank but elegant faces; my Aunt's and Rima's. They are dressed in elaborate black dresses and sitting in skilfully carved wooden chairs with white and red silk pillows. A lump forms in my throat at the sight of them, looking as though nothing has happened. I shiver and feel my fists clench around the sheets soft fabric. Do they even care? My Aunt Maria doesn't bat an eyelash at her own sister's death? And Rima sits like a porcelain doll in her elegant dress without any emotion whatsoever. It enrages me. All my parent's lives they loved Rima with all their hearts, leaving no room for anyone else, and she doesn't appreciate them or grieve over them?

I pull the curtains back around the bed, sick of seeing their blank faces.

"Sora," My Aunt starts in her brisk voice. "Due to circumstances, I will be leaving you and Rima here at Cross Academy. This is your new dorm room. I hope you have no complaints, as this is final."

I lift my head from my knees. She really doesn't care at all.

_Circumstances._

I'm not surprised that we won't be staying at my Aunt's house. She has never liked me, and as far as I know, she isn't particularly fond of Rima either. I hadn't expected her to put up with both of us at her house, but I hadn't been ready for this indifference either.

I can hear my Aunt rising from her chair, her dress fluttering across the floor and the clack of Rima's shoes as she follows.

After the door has snapped shut I open the curtains enough to peek through. The room is now empty. I can see another bed across from mine and a large window where rain still patters methodically. I brush my bangs out of my red eyes and sniffle.

The room really is beautiful, but I'm not in the mood to appreciate the splendour of the high ceiling and expertly designed layout. The other bed is exactly the same as mine, except the hangings are tied like curtains, exposing the meticulously made bed. I wonder if another vampire will be joining me in this room, and who they might be. I hope that it won't be Ruka, as she seems to harbour a dislike for me. I wouldn't mind sharing it with Rima, simply because I've spent my whole life as her roommate. Something familiar would be comforting right now.

I lean back on the bed. I don't feel like going anywhere or seeing anyone today, and choose instead to lay there trying to erase the image of my parents sprawled on the floor from my head.

I spend at least three days walled up in my new dorm room without any awareness of the time or date, either closed away behind the bed hangings or resting my head against the window, outside of which rain still cascades from the sky.

The clouds are crying. They are crying with me for my parents. I am not so alone. The clouds feel my pain too.

This is where I am now, perched on the window sill with my forehead pressed against the chilled glass, watching the raindrops race each other to the ground, when a soft knock fills my ears. I don't make any move to answer the door simply because I don't have any desire to talk to anyone. The knocking becomes more demanding, pounding a tune against the white stained wood. The rain falls faster and heavier, adding to the noise as it clacks on the window. I feel overwhelmed by the noise, like the used to be soothing rain and the annoying knocks have joined in an assault against my conscience.

Eventually, the knocking stops and I breathe a sigh of relief. Whoever was in the hall must have realized I don't want company or reckoned the room is empty. I close my eyes and move over to the bed, but am stopped halfway by a soft voice.

"I know you're in there. Please answer the door; I need somewhere to put my things. I promise I'll leave you alone after, K?"

I stare at the closed door, wondering what to do. Eventually, I drift over and reach out for the handle. I hesitate before turning it, noticing how much paler and bonier my wrists are than usual, and pull my sleeve over my hands. I probably look as bad as I feel.

I lean in to see who is standing in the doorway as I open the door a crack. In the doorway stands a tall, thin, pale girl with blue bangs falling into her face. She smiles at me kindly, her eyes glinting like polished emeralds. She reaches out a long fingered hand and pulls the door open fully, watching me intently.

I pull my eyes away from her hypnotizing gaze, feeling like she's looking deeper than the outside. She wraps her hands around the brass handles of her shockingly colourful suitcases and I step aside to allow her passage into my room.

Or, I suppose, _our_ room_._ This strange girl must be my roommate. I watch her drop her bags onto the other bed. I am slightly distracted from my sadness by this fascinating stranger, with her long navy hair, numerous different coloured earrings, necklaces and bracelets and black and purple striped cocktail dress. She straightens and turns to me, an amiable smile still carved in her fox-like features.

Her various bangles jingle pleasantly as she offers her hand for me to shake. I take it weakly, still slightly surprised by her odd choice of clothing.

"I am Tarot," She says, her soft voice overwhelmed by obvious excitement and happiness. I wonder briefly how she can feel so joyous will my insides burn with grief. "And you are Sora. I didn't mean to disturb you, but I don't know where else to go while it's so horrible outside. If you want me to leave, I will." I must really look as bad as I feel if it's so obvious to a complete stranger that I want to be left alone. I nod and lay back down on my bed, turning away. I don't want to think about how rude I am being; I just want to be by myself again; crying with the rain.

I listen for her retreating footsteps, or for the sound of the door snapping shut, but the sounds never come. Instead, I feel a slight depression in the bed behind me, and furrow my eyebrows. Why is Tarot sitting on my bed?

I feel a warm hand rest on my shoulder. "Sora, I think you need to talk about it. That helps when you've lost someone." I push her hand away. Does she really expect me to pour out my feelings to her, a complete stranger? I don't think so.

"I understand." She says, rising from the bed. "I would feel the same way." I hear the door click shut, and find myself wishing she would come back.

_I understand. _

I don't know how she could possibly understand about my hesitation to talk to someone I'd just met, but somehow, I feel like she really does.

**How do you like Tarot? Please review and tell me!**


	6. The Night Class

**I'm worried about when I introduce characters like Yuuki and Zero, because I'm not sure if I can get their personalities right! ****Some serious worries about that, so please tell me if there's anything I need to fix! Some background on Tarot, my lovely brain child. Tarot is based on myselfish. Now you have an explanation for the crazy. **__**I got her name when I was searching books in the library and I saw one called Tarot Something and stole the name/word.**

**The Night Class**

I awaken slowly, lying with my eyes closed in the cradle of blankets around me, not yet ready to see the world. The ache in my chest feels duller every day, and it bothers me slightly. It's like with every second my parents are getting further and further away, slipping through my fingers like broken class, cutting through me as they go. Every second the memories of them fade a little more, as my old life melts into my grief filled new one.

I hear a slight rustling on the other side of the room, then the sound of bare feet padding across the hard wood floors. I had forgotten that the bed opposite mine now belonged to my new roommate, Tarot.

"Morning, Sora." She says gleefully. I can hear the ring of jewellery and the flutter of fabric as she undoubtedly gets dressed for the night.

I don't have much time to ponder how Tarot knew I was awake because she suddenly pulls open the hangings on my bed, wearing a wide smile that reaches her bright eyes. Several long green necklaces dangle from her slender neck, clashing with her vivid orange shirt. She jumps back from my bed when I sit up and stands a foot away, eyes and necklaces sparkling.

"Sora, we're having a little get together of the Night Class tonight so the Head can blah blah blah. I hope you'll come, because I think it would be good for you to get out of here for a while." She managed to say all this with more compassion in her voice than I had ever heard in anyone else's before, but I could still hear the contained excitement behind her words.

"I don't think so. " I reply, swinging my legs over the bed.

"She speaks!" Tarot exclaims, smiling even more widely. I can hardly resist the urge to smile with her; Tarot's emotions seem to be contagious. "I know it will make you feel better if you get up and move a little, Sora." She says after a short silence. She's watching me like a hawk, the friendly smile still fixed on her sharp features. I am slightly confused by how she's treating me, like we've been friends forever; like we aren't complete strangers.

Like she understands me completely. Her words from last night come back to me.

"_I understand."_

She sits cross-legged on the floor, lamp like eyes still fixed on mine. Her all-knowing aura and peppy attitude unnerve me, and I feel like her large eyes can see right through to my broken heart. I slink over to the bathroom and close the door, leaving her sitting in the middle of the room.

Once in the bathroom, I lean over the sink and look in the vanity mirror. My reflection glares back at me, a mess of blonde hair and green tinged skin and bad temper. I twist the golden tap labelled with a letter "H" and cup my hands under the sudden rush of warm water, lifting some of it to my tear stained face. I decide I should also take a shower while I'm at it, even if there is no way I'm going down to the Night Class meeting.

After a longer than usual shower, I dress in a pair of jeans and a white sweater and re-enter the dorm room. I furrow my eyebrows, watching Tarot, who is jumping on her bed, humming a song I can't recognize.

I lie back down on my own bed and pull the hangings around myself, hiding from the world that has leaked into my room, trying to block out the fact that it is still turning while I stand still.

"Well, hiding won't help." Tarot's voice floats around in my head and I sit back up again.

"I'm not hiding! I'm allowed to feel bad!" I tell the shadow of her figure that stands outside the curtains.

"Yes, but you're not trying to feel any better, are you? That's what I meant by hiding, you see." I grit my teeth. Tarot tells it how it is, and I didn't want to know. But she's right, no matter how much I don't want to accept it. I'm not trying to feel better; I'm trying to drown in the memories of my deceased parents. But I don't want to tell her she's right, and I don't want to give in and go with her to the meeting.

Tarot stays where she is for a few more seconds before sighing and running for the door, jumping and clacking her heels on the way. There is one thing in my life that is certain, and it's that I have a very strange roommate. I never hear the snap of the door closing though, and peek through the hangings. Tarot is standing by the door, watching me and smiling a little.

I close the curtains with a flourish, annoyed at the superior glint in her eyes. I lie on my back and stare at the tassel hanging from the fabric draped over my bed. I can hear Tarot start to hum again, a light, happy tune. This one I recognize. They often play it at Vampire Balls; it's the kind of song that makes you want to dance. It used to make me want to dance, too. I can see Tarot's shadow tapping its faded foot, whether out of impatience or to keep beat with the song, I don't know, but I realize then that Tarot is waiting for me, and she'll probably stand there until I join her at the Night Class meeting. I also realize that I am tempted to tear open the curtains and march down to that get together, all to defy myself.

So I reach for the hangings and slowly pull them apart, noting the swish of the soft fabric. Tarot's face splits into yet another wide smile and she brushes her long navy hair out of her face. It's like she knew all along that I would give up eventually.

I take a deep breath before stepping through the door after her, hoping I can stay composed at the meeting. Tarot's long stride has a sort of bounce to it that contrasts drastically with most vampires' sweeping, upright march.

The Night Dorm is just as elegant as our room, decorated with expensive paintings and artwork. When we enter the meeting room, which is really a classroom in which a meeting is being held, we are greeted by Kaname Kuran, the most honoured Vampire in our society.

"Welcome, Sora, Tarot. We are pleased to have you join us." His voice commands authority, but isn't forceful; he seems to be the kind of person who is used to being obeyed without hesitation, and probably doesn't feel the need to be overpowering.

Tarot shuffles to the front and sits on a light wood desk, crossing her legs and folding her arms. I don't know if I should follow her or sit with Rima, so I stay where I am. The other Vampires stay where they are, ignoring us new comers, although they are having some trouble ignoring Tarot, who is trying to strike up conversation with each one of them in turn. Ruka's eyes are fixed on Kaname, who is standing at the front of the room with his shoulders squared. Aido is also watching Kaname, straight and official looking. I can tell he feels the utmost respect for Kuran by the look in his eye and the way he's holding himself. A serious looking girl with short silver hair stands by Kaname's side, her icy gaze searching the room suspiciously. I recognize her from the Ball. I believe her name is Seiren, and she seems to follow him everywhere.

Takuma and Tarot seem to have stricken up a conversation, as they are both laughing and talking loudly. I watch as Ichijo hands her a book, telling her animatedly about its contents. She flips through the pages, bangs covering her emerald eyes, before handing it back to Ichijo so he can put it back in his bag.

Rima and Shiki are sitting side by side near Tarot and Ichijo, faces blank, as usual. I linger on Shiki's soft face, tracing the lines and trying to find some emotion in his smoky eyes. A strand of maroon hair falls into his face, covering one eye. Rima pulls a box of chocolate poky from her bag and hands a piece to him, saying something I can't hear from where I am. He smiles ever so slightly and takes it, snapping it in half.

I perch in a seat in the back and watch Ruka try to flirt with Kaname, and I'm not the only one. Akatsuki Kain sits a few desks away with his chin resting on the palm of his hand and his cobalt eyes fixed on Souen as she bats her eyelashes at Kuran, tilting her head so a waterfall of sandy hair falls over her shoulder and frames her heart shaped face. Kain closes his eyes for a moment, and it is instantly clear to me how he is feeling.

I'm feeling that way too, in a way, watching Shiki smile and eat poky with Rima. Feeling left out, except the difference here is that Rima actually likes Shiki back, while Kaname ignores Ruka's attempts to seduce him. It must be hard for Kain, seeing the girl he loves chasing another man who will never love her back.

I look back to Tarot, who is still conversing with Takuma. She tucks a strand of blue hair behind her ear and laughs lightly. It's plain that she and Ichijo are very alike; both carefree and un-Vampirish.

Tarot's gaze suddenly turns to the door, and she watches it for a few seconds before the handle turns and two people enter the room.

One has shoulder length brown hair, cinnamon eyes and a friendly smile. She waves as she enters and makes her way to the front of the room. Behind her comes a tall, silver haired boy with an earring in one ear, a tattoo along his neck, and a strict expression. I wonder if he has ever smiled before in his life. He joins the happy looking brunette at the front of the class, standing with his feet squared and his back straight.

A moment later a tall bespectacled man with his long blonde hair tied back in a ponytail glides into the room, standing next to the brunette and wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"Greetings, students! I am Headmaster Cross, and these are our guardians, Yuuki and Zero! Welcome everyone, to the Night Class!" He says gleefully, smiling at us.

Every beautiful face is turned on him, watching him with steely eyes. I watch Shiki's back. I can't seem to keep my full attention on Cross.

"Yuuki and Zero will be making sure that none of you come into contact with the Day Class and that they don't stray out at night, when you will be allowed out of your dorms. You will all have to stay in here and in your dedicated courtyard until your classes start and the other students return to their own dorms." He announces to the emotionless faces turned up at him.

Tarot sighs and raises a long arm.

"Yes, Miss Oshiro?" Cross points to Tarot, looking pleased that someone is interested in what he's saying.

"So, we can't hang with the humans at all?" She asks, sounding disappointed. "It's just, they're so cute and mortal, you know?"

Headmaster Cross laughs, and Yuuki smiles bemusedly, but Zero looks offended. His eyes narrow and he glares at Tarot.

"No, you will not be coming into contact with the Day Class!" Yuuki exclaims. "It is our job as prefects to keep them safe and unaware of your secret!" She says this with great pride and passion, her eyes upturned and your fist in the air.

Cross smiles warmly down at her and Yuuki puts her hands on her hips, giving us a look that dares us to try and defy her. For a second, I though Tarot was going to take Yuuki up on that dare, but she seems to decide to hold her tongue and sit quietly.

Cross goes on to tell us about the values and motto of the school, and the advanced things we'll be learning in our classes. Nobody asks any questions or talks during his speech, and when he asks us if there is anything we'd like to say, he seems disappointed with our silence. Zero stands stock still the whole time, his eyes travelling over our class with a mixture of hatred and fury.

Tarot makes faces at him, obviously trying to make him laugh, and he ignores her except for the occasional infuriated glance. When the meeting is halfway through, I already can't wait to go back to the dorm room. The speech on rules isn't lifting my bad mood at all, and I jump up the instant Cross dismisses us and speed walk down the hallway.

**Please review, everyone! I am dedicating this to Katherine Kuran once again. I know it's a weird place to cut off, but I would never have been able to if I hadn't stop there, so sorry! At least it's long! I think this one's my longest yet!**


	7. Cross Academy

**Greetings, folks. My computer is being really weird, and I couldn't click "browse" to find the word doc to post, so I had to grab chapter one and delete it from my storage on here, replacing it with the content from chapter 7 in order to be able to post it. Confusing and annoying, but alas, I will not be stopped by computer evilness! I can't think of what to name this, so I call it:**

**Cross Academy**

"Sora! Sora, wait up!" Tarot's voice follows me down the hall, along with her quick footsteps. I slow down slightly, wondering what she wants. Tarot skids to a halt beside me, slipping on the polished hallway floor and fumbling to stay upright. She claps a hand on my shoulder to steady herself and I pull away, trying to ignore the hurt look she gives me.

"Where are you going so fast, Sora? Ichijou and I are going out to the courtyard for a while, and I was wondering if you'd like to come with us." She scans my face as she says this, looking hopeful.

"No." I say simply, turning away from her. I know what she's going to say, how it would be good for me to make some friends, or that I'll never feel any better if I stay in my room all the time.

"Alright, Sora. But tell me if you'd like to join us some other day." She begins to jog back to the classroom, flashing a small smile as she goes. I stalk back to our room, surprised that she had left without pleading with me to get out more.

Was it that, despite her constant smiling and laughing, she was actually hurt by how coldly I was treating her? Had she given up on me already? Am I so lost in my own grief that even optimistic Tarot is turning away?

I flop down on my bed, pulling a pillow to my chest. For the first time in two days I am completely alone. It doesn't feel the same as it did when I first arrived here. Somehow, I feel empty, like I had during my parents' near constant absence, like having a taste of social life has erased my anti social attitude.

My mind wanders to what Cross had said about the guardians, Yuuki and Zero. They would be protecting the day class from us, making sure we didn't make contact and feel tempted into tasting their blood. Did that mean we wouldn't be getting the humans' blood at all, or would they simply give it to us in a flask so the humans wouldn't get frightened or we didn't go too far and take too much from their weak bodies?

I remember the way Zero watched us, violet eyes flashing with hate and fierce passion. He seemed disgusted by our very presence.

I sigh and move over to the window, lifting the black curtains so I can watch the light rain drip down the glass and gather on the sill outside. The ground below is dotted with puddles and the sky is a murky grey. Mist distorts the various trees and buildings around the campus, pulling at their forms and dulling the sharp edges of stone corners and branches.

On every tree, from tall oaks to petite cherry trees, pale browns and oranges assert themselves amid the colourless atmosphere, the occasional lingering dark green leaf pushing through the clusters of those already changed by autumn's chill.

I rest my chin in my cupped palm, watching the clouds slowly drift over the pale half moon, a soft wind chasing them through the sky. Scanning the grounds, I notice a large pasture on the crest of a dark green hill. Multicoloured shapes dot the field, most huddled under wooden shelters or tall trees. A fairy tale red and white barn stands a ways off to the side, along with a large domed riding ring.

Cross Academy really does seem grand and prestigious, from what I can seem through my window, with its multiple large buildings and seemingly endless plot of land.

I pull at the collar of my sweater, watching the wind whisper secrets to the trees. An angry gust of it rattles at the window before subsiding completely, leaving only the steady patter of soft rain.

Two huddled figures turn the corner around the dorm room, and I recognize the long, wild navy of Tarot's hair and the soft honey blonde of Ichijou's, both heads shining in the strong moonlight. Tarot stops in front of the window while Ichijou continues towards several others who are beckoning for him to join them. As soon as Ichijou catches up with the group, they slip around a corner and disappear from sight, leaving Tarot to watch after them, still standing under my window. She lifts her eyes to the heavens, letting the rain wash over her face. I wonder why she isn't going along with the other vampires and squint in an attempt to see her face.

Suddenly, her gaze snaps down. Her eyes seem to shine from within, much like a cat's might. She lifts one arm and hollers up at me, jumping and waving her hand. As I continue to watch her, she jogs away around the building, pulling her long black coat tightly around her shoulders.

Moments later, Tarot opens the door and leaps onto her bed, not bothering to kick off her shoes or take off her wet coat. I pull away from the window as she begins to talk, hair plastered to her face and a soft smile touching her lips.

"Ichijou and I were reading manga under a canopy in the courtyard." She says, smiling wider still. "Then we decided to go out in the rain, because we both like being out when it's raining lightly like it is." She rolls over and looks at me, her smile turning into a grin. I can't help but notice the strain in her voice, even though her words and expressions are those of immense happiness. She reaches down and pulls off both her shoes, revealing long multi coloured socks. I can tell something's bothering her, but I don't know what gives me this impression. She seems just as happy as she normally is, maybe even happier. Maybe that's what it is. Tarot is so much happier than usual, so unnaturally joyous, and I'm used to vampires who are constantly gloomy. That's why it seems fake.

"If you had so much fun, why didn't you go with Ichijou when he ran off with the others?" I clamp my mouth shut. I hadn't meant to say that.

"Oh, they just wanted to be with Ichijou. They've known him so long, so it's to be expected." A sliver of ice cuts her words, even though she's still smiling hugely. I wonder what they said to make Tarot speak coolly about them, but I don't want to be intrusive by asking. I feel like I know Tarot well already, like there isn't any more I could possibly learn about her, like this is the only side of her, but I know she's not one dimensional, and I have to remind myself that she's still somewhat of a stranger.

I sit on my own bed as Tarot pulls off her soaking jacket and wrings the water out of her hair, letting pools of it gather on the pristine marble floor and throwing her coat onto a soft and expensive looking chair. I yawn, trying to ignore her blatant disregard for cleanliness and pull the hangings around my bed, catching a brief glimpse of a crest of yellow sunlight rising over the hill where the barn sits. I can hear Tarot closing the curtains and moving around the room before the slam of the bathroom door.

I change into the night gown I had found myself in after waking up the night my parents died, the soft silk and lace now familiar and comforting. I can't help but think of my parents as I fall asleep, remembering the ball where they danced so beautifully. I play the Ball over in my head, and Shiki's face enters my thoughts. I could have sworn that he had been close to smiling at me then and I wish he would abandon his emotionless attitude, just for me.

"G'night, Sora"

I start. Tarot's form is silhouetted against the thick curtains around my bed, unclear and almost undistinguishable, but her voice travels freely through the satin and pierces my beautiful mental image.

"Goodnight, Tarot." I whisper back, even though I know she can't hear me.

**This is short, sorry. It seems fillerish, but it needed to be done so I could get the relationship of Tarot with the other vamps sorted a little and pull Sora out of her gloom. Same as the last one, I have too much to say and I can't say it all without breaking it into really choppy pieces. Hopefully next chapter I'll get to the cooler part, in fact, I will try my best to make it so! Review = cookies and hugs for you, so please do. I rhymed twice. TWO WHOLE TIMES. It proves that I need you to review. **


	8. Tarot

**I just realized that Sora is also the name of someone in Final Fantasy! I want to see Advent Children so bad, but I can't find it anywhere. I'm fascinated by the game and movies, even though I've never played or seen them.****L**

**Tarot**

I awaken slowly. It has been a little over week since the Night Class meeting, and the first day of school approaches rapidly. I brush the sleep from my eyes and yawn. The incessant tap of streaming water drifts out of the bathroom, along with a steady stream of cheerful song.

I push my bangs out of my face, noting that I should probably cut them soon, before they block my vision completely. Tarot switches melodies in her shower, the happy tune of her previous song melting into a more dramatic one. I've grown used to Tarot's singing, even beginning to enjoy waking to her voice over the pounding water in the shower.

I pull open the deep crimson hangings around my bed, letting my feet fall on the cold floors and shivering. I reach for a set of clothes from my dresser, picking out a layered purple skirt and a long sleeved black shirt. I dress quickly, forgetting that autumn is a bad time to be wearing a skirt such as this one. In an attempt to evade the cold, I pull on a pair of black tights.

Tarot floats out of the bathroom as I do this, blue hair darkened almost to the point of being black from the water. She's wearing the usual strange combo of clothes, along with several charm bracelets and colourful necklaces. She waves a good morning, smiling and twirling before falling backwards on her bed, the last few words of a song spilling from her lips.

I slip into the bathroom to wash my face, brushing my finger over the sharp fangs just visible when I open my mouth. Just a light touch opens the skin, and a small drip of blood rests on the pad of my finger. I lick it off quickly, trying to stop the bleeding before Tarot smells it. I've learned in the short time I've been Tarot's roommate that she has very acute hearing, smell, and sight, even for a vampire, and even though I barely bled, she would know from a mile away.

Sure enough, when I come out of the bathroom, Tarot is standing at the door.

"Do you need a band aid?" She asks nonchalantly.

"No, I'm fine." I tell her, smiling subtly. She hops over beside me, bending in like I'm the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Would you like to go for a walk? It's not raining today." Her deep green eyes shine behind long eyelashes, jumping out from the pale alabaster of her skin and the dark blue of her hair. She's right. The rain that had been persistent all week no longer taps its sombre beat on the window pane. I feel better today than I have felt in a long time, my heart lightened from the burden of my mourning.

"Sure, why not." I tell Tarot, who has already travelled to her bed and pulled on her long black coat. I pull on my own coat before following her into the hall. She puts her hands in her pockets and hums as we walk, turning to look at everything we pass. I follow behind her silently, watching my own feet.

When we reach our dedicated courtyard, Tarot throws up her arms as though to introduce me to the outside world. I shake my head at her antics. Her jokes are harder to become accustomed to then her singing, because they are usually poking fun at me or whoever else is around. I have to keep reminding myself that she's just playing, being friendly in her own very un-vampirish way.

The grass is still damp with yesterday's rain, telling me that it must have been cloudy during the day if the sun hadn't stolen the water away. A soft breeze plucks a few leaves off the trees, the branches swaying after them as though to take back what they'd lost. My boots crunch on the dead leaves that litter the ground, crushing their brittle forms into many multicoloured fragments.

The sky is clear tonight, and the moon is full and bright. I scan the sky, its dark hold like a quilt over the world. I sit on the grass under a large oak tree, ignoring the wet grass and spotting the stars through the old tree's tangle of branches.

A set of luminous eyes watches through the branches, and one eyebrow rose quizzically. I had never even noticed that Tarot had left my side. She leaps, cat like, out of the tree and sits cross legged in front of me.

"You're very clueless." She informs me mater of factly. I'm taken aback. If anyone here is clueless, it's her. The fact that I hadn't noticed her absence probably meant I wanted to be left alone.

Her gaze drifts slowly away from my face and towards the path leading to the main building, where Cross holds office and lives. Moments later I begin to hear the crunch of gravel under boots, and soon after the swish of an over coat.

Three dark forms emerge from the darkness, darting in between bars of moonlight and shadow. All three of them wait in front of the main building's door, shifting and giggling. When the door finally opens, they slip inside.

"More Day students!" Tarot exclaims, still watching the now closed door. I doubt those three people were newly arriving Day Class students, because all the Day Class students had been specifically told to arrive yesterday, during the heat of the day, when we weren't wandering the grounds. If they were human students, they were lucky they hadn't encountered any of the Night Class.

I pluck at the grass, piling it up beside me like a miniature pyramid. Tarot watches me picking out the individual strands, looking absent. She often seems to zone out like this, and I wonder where she goes during these moments of silence.

I stand, shivering slightly as a fresh breeze drifts over my exposed face, and walk over to the edge of the courtyard, where a line of perfect red roses grow amid tangles of thorn, blocking most of the iron fence separating the yard from the rest of the school. I reach out and wrap my fingers around the cold bars, woven with intricate designs. Another sharp wind runs through my hair and stings at my skin, a warning that winter is fast approaching.

I turn away, deciding to go back inside. I can see Tarot sitting up in one of the large trees, swinging her legs contentedly. I slip back into the door, just catching a soft "goodbye" that floats in after me.

* * *

I pull at a lock of navy hair, running a hand along the rough bark of the tree I'm perched in. The sky looms down on the world. That's how I see it, at least. The sky is daunting.

I _hate_ daunting stuff. So I hate the sky too. My eyes slide closed and a silent tear escapes and runs down my cheek.

_Fine, you little bugger_. _But no more of that. That's all you're getting away with._

_No more crying. Tarot never cries._

I suppose I don't really hate the sky. More like, I hate the way it's looking at me. Blinking stars always watching with their shiny little eyes out of a face hidden in shadow. I don't like how mysterious it all is. I can't understand it completely, and probably never will, which is something I'm not used to. After all, I can read. Minds, Futures, Pasts, almost everything there is to be read. But the sky can't be read at all. It's just one big meddled up ball of black and planets and whatever.

And that's why I _love_ it.

Yes, I am perfectly capable of hating something and loving it at the same time. Love just comes so easily to me.

I remember some of the thoughts and strong emotions that had bombarded my poor mind when I first met Sora. She didn't seem to have much left to love at all. I tried not to invade her privacy, but it was like she was pushing all her hate and sadness into the air, where it hung like a horrible fog. It was just so obvious. I can tell she's feeling much happier now, because her emotions aren't so heavy. They don't force themselves into my head. She's levelled out; her feelings of grief are weakening.

I look over to the door of the main building, wondering when the new Day Class students will be coming out.

About an hour, when the younger sister, Melanie will be escorted to dorm room #8 and the brother, David, will be taken to another dorm, room number 23.

Curiosity got the better of me, I just had to know.

I pull out of the stream of future occurrences, not wanting to delve into anyone's personal life.

I begin to hum, the only way I know that keeps me from being accidentally pulled into other's thoughts or pasts. The wind picks up a little more and I pull up my hood before leaping out the tree.

"Thanks buddy." I say, patting it and giggling. I blow on the small grass pile Sora had made earlier, sending the grass flying and swirling, before running back inside the mansion like dorm.

**Tarot's POV! NO WAY! I didn't actually plan it like that, but Sora wasn't doing anything interesting so I thought it switch it up for a bit. I think this is like, my shortest chapter yet! Sorry!**

**Review. It is a surefire way to make me happy at you. I RHYMED AGAIN!**


	9. Once Always Leads To Twice

**Hey, I don't actually have anything to say before this chapter, so enjoy!**

**Once Always Leads To Twice**

Tall, pristine, beautiful.

Cold.

Cold eyes and empty expressions.

I can't believe I have to put up with them. Splitting the crowd like royalty, upright and haughty. And my peers jump and scream and try to touch them, flexing fingers like they're desperate.

_Oh, wonderful Night Class! Oh how your hair flips so perfectly! Oh, how we love you!_

They sicken me.

And they even have _body guards. _I know, I know. Technically (if you're in to technicality) they are _prefects. _

I see them for what they are. They are only here to stop my class mates from dirtying the uniforms of high society, to protect the important and mighty.

Prefects sicken me too.

Yuuki and Zero, again, if you're into technicality, are their names. Yuuki, the flamboyant and bouncy and smile, smile, smile.

And then there's Zero. He turns my way and I can see his unnatural violet eyes and silvery hair. I turn away.

I have more important things to do than watch the Night Class parade through our school grounds like they own the world.

I roll my eyes. It's ludicrous. I came to this prestigious school to make a place in society, not to dote on those who already have one.

One of the Night Class eyes me. She has the palest yellow hair I've ever seen and her eyes lack the luminescence of the rest of the Night Class, but she's still beautiful in a cabalistic way. Even though she's clothed all in white, with light blue eyes and light hair and light skin, she seems dark and secretive. My heart stops at the way she's looking at me.

Almost like…

Well, she's looking at me like a starving wolf might look at a deer.

And I run because that's what deer do when they see starving wolves.

* * *

The faint pink of dawn clutches the edges of the world, trying to stop the night from dragging it down. My eyes sting when I look at it, anticipating the softer skies that are beginning to fade into deeper and deeper blues, the paintbrush of stars sweeping in closer to the east of sunset.

Ruka's long hair swishes in front of me, reaching to the edge of her ivory skirt, and Ichijou calls out compliments to the Day Class. I can see Yuuki trying to contain what looks like every Day Class girl, pushing them and yelling over their high pitched cries. The Day Class has taken and instant liking in us, I notice. And we only started a week back.

I scan the crowd, breathing in deeply. A small, spiky haired boy with hazel eyes and an expression boiling over with hatred meets my own eyes, and I slow. He stands apart from the rest of the Day Class, hands in deep pockets and feet shuffling impatiently.

I watch him, interested. I can smell his fury over everyone else's excitement, my eyes travelling to an open cut on his arm.

He turns and bolts, momentary panic etched in his thin face, and I almost run after him, lips lifting into what slowly becomes a snarl.

Truth is... he smelt _wonderful. _

And the only reason I wanted to come here was blood.

Zero is at my side in an instant, looking fierce, as always. I lower my lips and drift around him, but he follows me like a shadow, disgust written all over his face. I slip through the door to the schooling building just as he begins to speak, and miss his words, but certainly not the snarl in his silvery voice.

I follow the rest of the Night Class, the mix of blond and black and red hair. The door behind us suddenly bangs open, and Tarot rushes in, laughing airily at the string of reprimands Zero throws at her for being late again, his eyes narrowed accusingly. She rests a hand on his shoulder, pouting when he pushes it away furiously. Yuuki's voice chimes in, telling Zero off for being hypocritical, because he's usually late as well.

When Tarot finally tires of bothering Zero and closes the door, the whole Night Class' eyes are fixed on her, varying looks of distaste and boredom on their beautiful faces. Tarot ignores the disdain and enters the classroom, pulling Ichijou by the hand after her. He pulls against her half heartedly before letting her lead him to the front of the classroom, were she slides into a corner desk and props her chin on her hand. Ichijou sits in the desk next to her, pulling a book from his bag and opening it to a page somewhere in the middle and leaving the book open on the desk as Tarot pulls him into conversation.

Shiki sits in the desk next to Ichijou, and Rima sits next to him. They share a few casual words every little while, passing poky between them. I sit behind Tarot, watching Shiki and listening to her and Ichijou talking animatedly.

The class goes on without event, our guest lecturer running us through on the finer details of some of the things we'd learnt over the past week.

We all leave in a group for the courtyard but Ruka and Rima are the only ones who stay, gliding over the lawns and admiring the rose garden. Aido, Kain, Kaname and Seiren branch off into the common room, leaving me, Tarot, Shiki and Ichijou to walk the halls. Tarot seems to be following me, and Ichijou follows her, while Shiki follows him. It's almost comical how we train along, connected and disconnected at the same time.

I duck into my dorm, and Tarot obviously decides not to follow, because she continues down the corridor, the two boys in her wake.

I rest my elbows on the window sill, looking out over the moonlight bathed grounds that have gradually become my home. Slight shadows lurk under the trees and buildings, making the world look like a black and white photograph.

The wind picks up a few scattered leaves and pushes them across the grass below, where a hooded figure crunches them under its footsteps. I wonder briefly if it's Rima or Ruka, but the figure is much too short to be either of them. It storms across the ground, circling and stomping. I furrow my eyebrows, wondering what the person is doing and who they are, but I don't have long to wonder, because Tarot bursts through the door right at that moment and peers over my shoulder.

"Hey! That's the Day kid who was bad mouthing me before class! He was really wound up about something." She laughs, pushing a lock of navy hair out of her face.

I back away from the window. I wonder if he is the same boy who was watching me earlier, the one who smelt so wonderful.

"Strange that he's out in the middle of the night." I tell Tarot. Lucky, really. "I'm going to go see Rima."

Tarot begins to hum, drumming her slender fingers on the window pane and tapping her foot.

I slip out the door and down the long hallways, passing the beautiful artwork without seeing it. The world seems to be at the end of a looking glass, tinged in a gentle, pleasant red glow. When I enter the courtyard, Ruka and Rima have already left, and my steps quicken.

The wrought iron gate swings open easily as I exit the courtyard, squeaking on its hinges, almost as though to complain against my leaving the Moon Dorm.

The boy moves out from around a cluster of trees, mumbling angrily and kicking at a stone with the heel of his polished black boot. Several tufts of messy black hair stick out from his hood and settle around his neck and over his dark hazel eyes.

Several pieces of his soliloquy reach my ears, "Stupid... not allowed... higher... privileges..." His voice is bitter and irate, and his posture is tense. I glide in behind him, watching as he stops and turns as though in slow motion. I wrap my fingers around his small wrist, looking down through my thick bangs into his wide, fearful eyes, and seeing nothing but the slight pulse in his neck.

The hazel flashes with recognition, and a small gasp escapes his pale lips as I bend, my own lips lifting, exposing gleaming white fangs. His eyes dart to them, his slim body fights to get away and his instincts tell him to run, but his wriggling is futile, and I pull the blood from his small body without hesitation.

And he curses me, growling angrily, but I ignore him. The world is bathed in red, and my whole body craves _more. _

**I don't know what category to put this in anymore.**


	10. Mistake

**This chapter was easy to write, and I did actually write it the same day I wrote the last one! Funny thing here: microsoft word thinks this is less words than fanfic does! haha, I wonder which one is accurate!**

**Mistake**

I pull away from the boy, blood dripping down my chin. His lids are half closed, eyelashes fluttering, but his eyes are still filled with fire and hate, a string of curses resting on every laboured breath. I shake my head; realizing, with a start, the gravity of what I've done. I look around frantically, hoping no one was anywhere near, hoping no one was missing this Day boy. He struggles to stand, but I hold him where he is, draped over my right arm. I can't have him running away and telling anyone.

I feel a sharp tug at my hair and snap back to look at him. His fist is balled into my roots, and he's pulling sporadically, still cursing. I let him scramble to his feet before wrapping my arms around his thin waist and pulling his hands behind his back.

"Well, thank you. Couldn't save me my dignity, could you? This is really hard on a man's pride, you know!" His voice is a low hiss, touched with annoyance.

I whisper, as close as I can to his ear, hoping no one heard his angry cursing, "You keep it down and do what I say." Panic courses through me and slips into my voice. I could be in huge trouble, not only with Cross, but with the Hunter's Association and the Council of Elders, and the thought of sitting in someone's office with Zero's anti-vampire gun to my temple terrifies me. This could ruin Cross' plan to have vampires coexisting with humans.

"_You _tell me what the hell's going on." The boy snaps, countering my demand with one of his own.

I'm taken aback at his attitude, but I don't waste any time responding or questioning it. I slip one arm under his legs and lift him, running back towards the Moon Dorm and trying to evade his flailing limbs and stream of whispered swears and rejoicing in his lightness. A tear falls over my cheek and I blink furiously.

I stop at the door, glancing at the slowly rising sun.

"Open the door for me." I try to sound demanding, but my voice cracks and wavers, giving away my nervousness. Anyone could be lurking the halls of the dorm, and Tarot is undoubtedly waiting in our room right now, wondering where I am.

"I won't, you- ." The boy starts defiantly, and I almost feel my knees buckle with exasperation.

"I don't have time for this!" I hiss at him, and he smirks at me.

"Let me down, and I'll open the door for you."

I slide my arm out from under his knees and grasp his wrist firmly, then open the door myself, dragging him in after me. I try to avoid the main passages, and only meet any trouble when I reach my dorm room. I can barely keep from sinking to the floor and sobbing, the weight of the disaster I've managed to create balanced precariously on my shoulders. I can't bring myself to open the door, such a simple thing suddenly seeming to hold my fate.

Suddenly, the door swings open, and Tarot pulls me in, locking it behind us, bracelets jingling. I wrap my arms around her shoulders and bury my head into her sweater, feeling the world disappear into the deep crimson fabric.

It's the colour of the blood.

The blood that, because I took it, could ruin my life.

I barely feel her guiding me towards my bed, and I try to explain in a flurry of broken words.

"I already know, I know." Tarot repeats, over and over, trying to make me stop mumbling. The boy joins in with her reassurances, swearing nonstop and cursing the Night Class and rules and society, and, it seems, everything he can possibly think of.

Tarot snaps something at him, waving her bejewelled wrist at him menacingly. He raises an eyebrow and aims his insults at her instead, running a finger over his bite wounds, where a trickle of blood still rests.

I can feel Tarot's hand shaking, and I reach out to grab her wrist. She breathes deeply, her lip twitching and her body tense. She suddenly leaps forward and I yank on her arm, pulling her back. The boy jumps onto Tarot's bed and pulls his feet up, as though touching the very ground where our own feet rest would be an insult to him.

Tarot drags her feet towards the bathroom and rummages through our many cupboards, eventually extracting a long white bandage and tossing it to the other end of the room. The boy fumbles to catch it, growling and swearing.

"Wrap it around your neck, Klutz!" Tarot snaps at him, wiping away the one tear I had let fall off my cheek.

The boy does as he was told, cursing Tarot, her hair, and virtually everything about her.

"You won't get in trouble." Tarot tells me, pulling my comforter over my shoulders. "I won't let anyone find out." She gives the boy a piercing look as she says this.

My stomach twists. My future rests in the hands of a bad mouthed human stranger whom I probably scared half to death and Tarot, whom I've only known a short while.

Tarot flicks the key to the door out of her pocket and spins it around her finger. The boy watches her with wide eyes, finally silent.

"So..." She starts, and I prepare myself for the unending swears that will undoubtedly flow from his mouth when she threatens him, which I'm sure she's about to do. "What's your name?"

I glance at her, sniffing unhappily.

"Why would I tell you?" He snaps at her, sliding against the wall behind Tarot's bed.

"Because I asked nicely." Tarot informs him simply, her head cocked to the side.

The boy sneers and throws several more insults at her. Anger seems to be his only emotion.

"Fine. I'll just call you Klutz." She tosses the key an inch above her head and catches it again, threading her finger through the loop at the end and spinning it. The boy's eyes follow it up and he lurches forward on the mattress. Tarot slips the old fashioned silver key back into her jean's pocket and leads me over to the bathroom, closing the door on the confused face of the boy.

"Listen, Sora," She says softly, a hand on my shoulder. "You're safe now. I'll deal with Klutz, alright? Just take a shower and go to sleep; the sun's gonna be up soon." She gives me a signature half smile and a fleeting hug before leaving the room.

I wash off my face, stomach tight and hands shaking with anticipation. My whole body knows it's in danger, the adrenaline of trying to get away with something so huge pushing sweat down my blood streaked face.

I stay under the hot rush of water longer than I usually do, the shower head hanging over me as I sit on the bath floor. The water seems to wash away the grime on my heart as well as that on my hands and body.

When I step out of the shower; a fresh wave of nervousness brushes over me. When Tarot said she would "deal" with the boy, what had she meant? I linger in the steamy warmth of the bathroom, not wanting to look into his hateful eyes or feel them on me like accusing spot lights.

Tarot and the strange boy's voices float through the door and I can tell they're arguing. I slip through the door and into my bed, trying not to be noticed. I turn away, and hear the swish of Tarot closing the bed curtains around me.

"Klutz, just... shhh..." Tarot whispers.

I close my eyes and try to shut out their voices, but the boy's voice keeps getting louder every time Tarot tells him to be quiet.

"My name is Xavier!" He snaps.

"Well, you wouldn't tell me that when I asked before and I've already named you." Tarot whispers back.

Xavier begins to swear again. He really does seem to become angry at everything, first he didn't want to tell Tarot his name, and now he is furious that she won't use it.

I pull my blankets over my head, trying to drown out their voices, regret seeping in with me and wrapping me tighter than the blankets themselves, choking me. I try to stop thinking about it all; the taste of his blood on my lips and the feel of it pulsing down my throat, like his heart was beating just to push it all into me. Mainly, I try not to think of what will happen to me when Cross finds out, which I'm almost certain will happen.

And I think back to before this, realizing, all too late, that it was that first taste of blood that was the true mistake. It wasn't harmless, or just a fleeting need for more. It was a hole I had begun to dig for myself, and I keep digging that hole unknowingly every day, when I swallow a blood tablet and think how much better the real thing is.

It was that first excursion; that first taste, that was my mistake.

**Please review, everyone! The promise of cookies and hugs is still withstanding! **


	11. Mind Trickster

**I'm listening to music and watching the telly at the same time while I write this. Which, sadly, I do a lot while I write this story. Luckily no Spongebob plot has slithered into my writing! (Yes, Spongebob)**

**Mind Trickster**

I look into Klutz's deep hazel eyes, a mix of murky green and dark brown and vibrant lime. They are clouded with hate and anger.

Clouds are _always _hiding something.

I stop humming and fall into those bottomless spheres of fury.

_Two tall figures with hoods hiding crooked smiles and crooked teeth linger by the door way, talking to a petite woman with long dark hair that falls loosely around her pretty face and dark eyes. They nod and smile, lopsided, yellow teeth flashing. _

_A small boy with a mess of black hair like his mother's slips into the hall before running back and crouching up the stairwell, which is off to the right, past the open door leading to a quaint bathroom. The short woman closes the door, clutching an envelope to her chest and looking triumphant and horrified at the same time. Her hair is greasy and split at the ends, and her face is wrinkled beyond its years. _

_She slips into a doorway to the right, into the small kitchen and slaps her palms next to the sink, looking up into a mirror hanging over it. _

_"It's for Xavier. It's for him." She whispers to her reflection, smiling half heartedly. "He deserves this."_

I pull away from this image because it isn't what I was looking for. At least now I know a bit about Klutz. His house looks poor, his mother is pretty, but also tired and stressed. He looked fearful. He looked confused. He looked worried.

The Klutz in front of me glares at me intensely.

Stop it, you're scaring me.

Ha ha. That was sarcasm.

A ray of sun reaches into the room, and I'm reminded that I have to work fast. I can't have Klutz missing in action, he needs to attend his classes; I can't have anyone looking for him.

He's not here, don't look here.

That was a joke. Excuse me for trying to lighten the mood. It's so tense and awkward, with Klutz looking at me like I'm holding a gun in one hand and gasoline in the other. Looking at me like "Are you kidding? You stupid or something? I hate you and your stupid ways."

I drift into his head again, his confusing mess of mixed up thoughts and emotions and memories. Luckily, I'm used to people's unorganized minds and can sift through the stuff I don't need and the stuff that will help me. Anything to keep him quiet.

I'll try black mail first. Some of these memories are really embarrassing.

"Klutz!" I smile at him. He's funny, with that angry face of his. "You're funny." I thought he should know.

A stream of swears flows freely from his thin lips. Big words for such a little guy. I tell him so. I thought he should know that too.

"Stop calling me Klutz!" He whispers, trying to pack the intensity of a scream into his words. "My name is Xavier!" He hisses this last part, looking daggers at me.

The bathroom door opens and Sora drifts out like a ghost, slipping into her bed. I pull the hangings around her, watching Klutz. He opens his mouth to recommence the flow of cursing.

"Klutz, just… shh…" I whisper frantically when Sora shifts again in her bed. I want her to go to sleep. I really can sort this out, I know I can. I want Sora to trust me; I want her to think of me as a friend. I don't have many of those. Okay, I have one. Ichijou.

"My name is Xavier!" Klutz snaps with a flash of white teeth.

"Well, you wouldn't tell me that when I asked before and I've already named you." I inform him. It's his fault for being stubborn. Maybe I would call him by his real name if he hadn't been so reluctant to tell me what it was.

Xavier rushes forward with more swears. Predictable. I step towards him. Time to find some information I can use to my advantage. I swim through his head, trying to find something particularly note worthy.

A history of bed wetting, nightmares, hand me down clothes and street fights that are never won. Nothing I could really use against him. A swarm of faces with their eyes tipped downwards, always taller than him, always with better clothes, always calling him cute. Anger for those people. How dare you look down on me?

A younger Xavier walking the halls of a large Elementary School with tall ceilings and buffed floors, scuffing his old trainers against them, the hems of ripped jeans dragging. Everything so strange and beautiful, the neighbourhood green and perfect with kids in trim blouses laughing with other kids in trim blouses.

Returning to his house, with the peeling paint and dry grass and two kids smoking around the corner, greeting him with a flurry of well meaning words that would be insults in any other community. Waving and wishing for something better, handing in the perfect grades and asking nonstop if he could attend a boarding school; somewhere where he came from the same dorm as the other people, instead of the opposite side of town.

No, no, no, I'm sorry, hun, but we can't afford it. And you like your school, you wouldn't want to leave.

And the mother who just didn't understand that he didn't like his school; that the people there were tall and stuck up and perfect. They looked down at him with their straight smiles and walked with their shoulders squared and their pretty heads high and Xavier was only 5'2" and was the shortest in his class.

And then the men came, crookedly handing an envelope to his mother. Suddenly they did have the money, and she bought a nice house in Japan and he went to Cross Academy and don't ask questions.

The thoughts were those of someone who was emotionally falling apart at the seams. It's perfect. I sit on the floor in front of Xavier, chin angled upwards at his face. I'm not looking down on you Xavier, not anymore. Now will you listen to me?

He looks down on me, and the ghost of a smile brushes the corners of his mouth, but his eyes remain hard and he seethes like a little kettle.

_I'm a little tea pot, short and stout, here is my handle, and here is my spout! When I get all steamed up, hear me shout._

"Xavier, if you go to class today and even drop a hint as to what happened tonight, you'll never be able to attend this school again." I don't know if this is completely true, but I think they would kick out the humans if use vamps started nipping at mortal flesh. "They will want you to go back home where you're safe from another little accident like this and you will have to keep going to that school with the people who don't respect you. You'll have to go back to losing fights in back alleys and being poked and teased by the victor and picking yourself off the ground without any dignity left."

I tilt my head, watching his reactions. Initially, there is disbelief, then turmoil in his head as he wonders if I'm right, then fear that I am right. And his facial expression doesn't shift a millimetre.

I smile. Success.

Tarot: 1

Klutz's inner tattle tale: 0

Some of his hair falls into his murky eyes as he watches me, casting his face into semi shadow. He still needs a little convincing. And there's a new look to his eye; suspicion.

"How did you know that?" His voice sounds different now, soft and a little scared. How did I know that? I read your mind, little boy.

"I know things." I tell him instead. This could help my argument. "I also know that that will be your fate if you blab, so try not to run your big mouth."

His eyebrow twitches. He likes being called big, but not particularly a big mouth. He wonders if I could really know this. He wonders if there is a way I could have found out about his life. He settles. I really do have an uncanny why of knowing things I shouldn't.

I giggle. That part's true. I probably shouldn't know these things.

He decides not to tell, but he's scared of Sora. He knows we're vampires.

Not we, Klutz. You don't need to think you know more than you're allowed to know.

"Yes, Sora's a vampire. You can't tell a soul, or they'll take all of us away. Back to the streets." Now I haven't revealed the whole Night Class. He'll just think its Sora. Unless he's really smart and notices that vampires are nocturnal and the Night Class takes classes in the middle of the nighty times.

"That's why she takes her classes in the night." He tells me, as though he's stating a fact to a hopelessly uninformed kindergartener. I guess he is kinda smart. And a little stuck up, too. "So… why does the rest of the Night Class take them… Oh." He breaks off. I chew on my lip.

"Are you going to bite me too?" He asks, without a trace of fear in his voice.

"Just don't scratch yourself." It could be funny if it wasn't so serious.

**I love all the reviews I've gotten so far! Even in your wildest dreams, you could never realize how insanely happy they make me! I hope you're as happy as I am with the progression in this! Thank you reviewers, you are wonderful. And thank you to everyone who reads this, favs it and alerts it, you make me very happy as well! And thanks to my anonymous reviewer. I know most writers get mad when someone doesn't feel the need to make an account and review, but I am happy that you review even without an account, it flatters me somehow. I don't know. **


	12. Not Cute, Not A Klutz

**Xavier makes me laugh. Out loud. As I type. I love him. He writes himself, and I love that.**

**Not Cute, Not A Klutz**

I'm walking to school, because Tarot said so. I'm not happy about it, though. I want to be here more than anything, and now the dream is hanging on a thin little string over my head and Sora and Tarot and the rest of those damn Night Class students are holding the end, flicking it and clutching sharp little scissors in their dainty little hands, and they think they're so cool.

I don't like being controlled. I don't like being manipulated. I don't like being told what to do. I don't like to be beaten. I feel like all of these things have happened in one night, and I don't like that either.

And I don't like Tarot and her mind voodoo. And I don't like her hair. And I don't like these shoes. Not at all. I want to pull them off and heave them over Cross Academy's huge wrought iron gates so I never have to look at them again.

I grit my teeth. Tarot had patted my hair over the two little bite marks on my neck, telling me how wonderful it was that my hair is as long as it is in her sing song voice and smiling at me like I'm a little joke, and I'm not.

I'm not a joke and I'm not funny, Tarot. I can feel you laughing on the inside.

_Klutz._

That's not my name. I hate being called Klutz. Bandages can be hard to catch. Just because your perfe…

I jump back in surprise, having just walked into someone heading towards me.

"Watch it, you little klutz!" A greasy voice floats over my head. I look up at the square face and the small eyes of Jirou, one of my classmates.

He sneers and tries to skate around me, but I grab his stiff collar, cling to the black uniform and lift my fist. You can't call me a klutz; I've had enough of this.

He staggers backwards when my knuckles crack against his jaw. I may have never won a fight, but I bet he's never even been in one. He shakes his head and just walks on, so I let him.

I roll up the sleeves of my blazer and speed up. Bring it on, people. I'm not taking this. I didn't sleep last night. Hope your thick heads were comfortable on your fluffy pillows.

A group of giggling girls cuts in front of me, running to catch up with some of the other boys in my class. I can distinctly hear one of them call me a "cutie."

Xavier is _not cute!_

I square my shoulders and hold my head as high as I can, pushing back a lock of black hair that falls into my eyes. There are a lot of things I am, and cute is not one of them.

No way.

The class room is noisy. I want everyone to be quiet for a second. Or forever.

You know what? Just go permanently mute, all of you.

I sit at the front of class, and a realization hits me. I know a secret. A _huge _secret.

_And you don't!_

I smirk, making sure to catch the eyes of everyone in the class. Look at me, I have a secret and you don't get to know what it is. One girl raises a slim eyebrow at me and I lift both of my own eyebrows at her. She looks away.

That's right, I won't tell you. Just look away. Go ahead. I don't care.

The teacher walks in and I follow his path as he picks through chatting students and desks, a few papers flying out from his pile. The girl with the eyebrow catches one and makes a scene of reading it and looking shocked, with a hand to her heart.

The class laughs.

I roll my eyes.

The teacher snatches the paper out of her hands with a firm "Thank you, Kisha."

She pouts.

Spoiled little rich kid. Kisha disgusts me with her attitude. Doting on the Night Class, bragging about how all the boys adore her.

"_Kaname winked at me, I swear, and my heart almost stopped_!"

I bet you he didn't. Wish your heart _had_ stopped.

What's so great about Kaname? I have black hair too. What about me? Don't ever glance at me, do you? None of you do. I could be a ghost for all you know.

I bet they wouldn't notice if I disappeared, don't know what Tarot was so upset about, telling me everyone would form a little search party if I didn't go to school. Yeah right. Maybe for her they would; maybe for a Night Class student.

Well, at least I have a secret and these air heads don't. I flash Kisha another smirk. She raises another eyebrow. What's with her and her eyebrows?

No one cares about your eyebrows, Kisha, stop showing them off.

The teacher raises his pale hand. He looks frazzled, as usual. No wonder everyone walks all over him. Kisha raises her hand as well, tilting her head, and the class laughs again.

I just roll my eyes.

Mr. Teacher Whose Name I've Never Bothered To Learn clears his throats, thanks Kisha again. I wish he would stop thanking her for being annoying. For all we know, it's egging her on. Put her in the hallway. I like her better where I can't see her.

Kishas little group of friends start passing notes quite openly. Mr. Teacher's eyes follow each one, but he doesn't say a thing. Just keeps talking.

It's interesting, what he's saying, girls. Try listening. Maybe then, when we're tested on it, you won't have to complain about how you didn't know have the stuff on the quiz. I thought this school was elite. I wish I was in the other class, where they put the smarter kids. I deserve to be there, but life is twisted in the following way:

Money always wins.

And I've accepted it, so I don't say anything. Just watch Mr. Teacher and maybe he'll be happy with you and move you up.

Please Mr. Teacher, I know a secret and you don't. It's bubbling in my throat. It wants to escape. It wants you to know. But I want to be here. I want to be here even though I can't stand Kisha and her entourage. I want to be someone. I want people to look up to me and say wow. Wow, he's great. Why did we doubt him?

He's got a secret and he wants you all to know.

The Night Class are all vampires. With fangs and everything.

Just try not to pass it on.

I turn around when Mr. Teacher's nervous voice stops and he begins to hand out activity sheets. The class talks openly now, continuing conversations that had been started on tiny scraps of paper ripped from poor abused note books.

Kisha's blue eyes sparkle and her dark brown hair shines under the artificial light over her head. Several eyes are locked on her pretty face, some of their mouths tipped open. She's as pretty as a human can get. Her beauty is only rivalled by the Night Class.

I blink. I don't like her one bit. She's an attention seeking, egotistical –

"Hey, Xavier, you're smart, right? Would you mind helping me with some Maths stuff? I really need a tutor, and I think you're, like, the best in Maths, or whatever." Kisha watches me, expecting an eager yes or a fumbling of words.

"No." I say evenly. I don't like you, Kisha. I don't like you. I don't like you.

Her mouth is hanging open. Rejection isn't so sweet, is it Kisha? Maybe you shouldn't use people. I hate being used. You wouldn't talk to me if you weren't doing badly in Maths.

She makes a little noise, as though I'm the one being rude to her. It's rude to use people, not to stop people from using you. You can be as pretty as you want, but you can't use me.

One of her friends gets defensive, flipping her blond hair over her shoulder and asking me what's wrong with me. Her friend needed a little help, I shouldn't be so snarky.

The word "snarky" disgusts me. No one ever call me that again.

Jirou pipes up from the back of the class. "I'm doing pretty well in Maths, I'll tutor you!"

Kisha half smiles at him and giggles an okay. Mr. Teacher finishes passing out the assignment. I wish Kisha's friends would stop insulting me behind my back. I can hear you whispering, you know.

And then the bell rings.

Mr. Teacher ushers us all out the door, telling us to hurry along and get to our dorms so the Night Class can use the building. A few of the girls squeal when he says this, asking each other animatedly if they have a chance with a certain boy.

You don't, I tell them all. Definitely not.

And they turn away with that strange expression girls assume when they are vaguely insulted. Of course they do, they say. Why wouldn't we? They ask their friends.

And I try to get to my dorm as quick as possible. Until I see Sora. Once again, I can't pull my eyes away from hers. They are lifeless and alive and the same time, murky and secretive and revealing all at once. I remember how they looked last night.

Deep crimson. Neon edges. Hungry. She almost smiles at me. I almost lunge at her.

Then Tarot runs up, trailing the Night Class and calling for them to wait up. Several earrings poke out from her navy hair and tinkle like wind chimes. The other vampires look vaguely annoyed. Barely. Mainly, they are just cold and expressionless.

And they still seem to think they're better than everyone else. I try to slip into the crowd, but Tarot is beaming down on me, waving a slender arm and hooking the other around the neck of another Night Class student with bright blonde hair who is throwing compliments to every Day Class girl.

No wonder they think they have a chance.

The blonde boy, Ichijou, accepts Tarot's arm around his neck and continues, putting a hand in his pocket as he slips into the building where classes are held. Tarot winks at me as she disappears behind the door. I hope she doesn't think we're friends.

I still hate the Night Class. Despise them, in fact. Can't stand to look at them. I want to get inside my own dorm as fast as possible. I don't want to see Kisha cheering and waving at Kaname, and I don't want to see Yuuki pushing her back and trying to guide her towards her own dorm, or Kaname stopping to talk with Yuuki as she blushes deeply and pats her hair down like a love sick schoolgirl.

Well, she is a love sick school girl.

So I force my way into the Sun Dorm, joining some of the other boys who don't linger to stare at the Night Class girls. But I don't talk to them, because they don't want to talk to me. I just go upstairs to my room and ignore my roommate, Daichi. He just puts his thumb in his mouth and sits like a baby in his bed. I feel like telling him he's in high school and he should get over himself, but I don't, because I don't want to talk to him.

After all, you don't need friends when you have enemies.

**A little venture into the mind of Xavier. I really like the POVs of Tarot and Klutz. I don't know why, but they are really fun to write. Some Sora coming up too, though. Review, please!**


	13. It's In The Air

**Happy belated Valentine's Day, everyone. I know it's late, but you see, I was hanging out and suddenly thought: "Whoa. My Garfield calendar is telling me it is the 14th." I had no chocolate to eat. I had no candy hearts to read. I had no roses to smell and later kill with my lack of plant knowledge. I did, however; have a mind that realized that I am writing a story that is in the genre of romance that has virtually no romance in it. Ideas ensued. I had nothing to do but take a shower and write them down.**

**And the chapter name is random. I'm just really bad at thinking of names.  
**

**It's In The Air**

I spot Klutz through the crowd and wave. He's cute when he pouts like he is. Probably doesn't even know he's pouting either. Probably thinks he looks intimidating.

I hurry up to Ichijou and throw an arm around his neck as he calls out to the Day Class. They beam and fight to get closer, calling back to him. I love humans, they are so flamboyant. I wave at Klutz, because he's cute and needs to be waved to. His eyes narrow and he tries to split the crowd, but they seem not to even notice him. He's just too little. I slip inside the building with Ichijou and wink at him as he throws me one more furious glance.

When the doors close I begin to laugh. It's hard not to laugh when someone's trying so hard to be pessimistic like he is. He doesn't have to hate the world. I don't hate the world, and I have as much reason to as he does. The deep and foreboding nature of his eyes remind of Zero's. Zero: the guardian who's always yelling at me not to be late when he's almost always late himself.

Sora sits in a desk in the back, her head down. I want to sit with her, tell her I handled Klutz just fine. I will tomorrow, when we don't have classes.

For now, I just pretend to listen to our lecture, doodling on a scrap piece of paper and passing notes to Ichijou. He laughs at my drawings, some of them consisting of a tall silver haired Day student with a red guardian arm band yelling comically at a group of huddled people whose hair flies out behind them with the force of his voice.

_That's just like him... did he yell at you for being late again today?_

A piece of paper is flicked at me with Ichijou's tidy scrawl in the top right corner. It's strange to read his words on paper without the over enthusiastic voice to accompany them.

_No, I was here before him today. Hypocrite. _

I write back in my own messy way, raising an eyebrow at the blonde. He laughs lightly, pinching his nose and covering his mouth so the teacher won't hear and I begin to giggle at his antics, covering my own mouth to stop myself.

Our teacher snaps her gaze over to us, slamming her chalk down dramatically, and we both begin to laugh uncontrollably, this time at the strict vampire who lectures us.

"If you enjoy this class so much, Miss. Oshiro and Mr. Ichijou, you will be happy to hear that you will be attending an after class detention here." She stares down her glasses and I bite my lip to stop the flow of laughter. The teacher drifts towards us, probably to stare us down fully. Might as well go all the way.

Suddenly, with speed you would never expect from someone so wrinkly, she snatches the notes off our table, inspecting them.

"What is this?" She inquires.

"As if you don't know." I smile. Didn't mean to say that one out loud.

"Maybe you would prefer to spend your detention helping Zero clean up the classroom after the Day students have left tomorrow, since you seem to be such _good _friends."

She knows perfectly well I would not prefer to do that and we are not good friends. I can't stand how sardonic this woman can be.

Ichijou just shakes his head, chuckling, and taps me on the shoulder. "Too bad she took your drawing of Zero; I thought it was quite the keeper."

I slap his arm playfully and feign annoyance. I really don't want to serve detention with someone as bossy as Zero.

* * *

When I pull back the bed curtains, Xavier is no longer seated gloomily on Tarot's bed, no longer snarling at me with hate burning in the deep depths of his dark eyes. I sigh contentedly. It's the second day that he has been loose in the world, the second night that I haven't had to see him. It's relieving to be free of the accusing glare, but a new worry strikes me, one that I have been trying desperately not to think about.

What did Tarot mean when she said she'd deal with him? Her signing floats in from the bathroom and the usualness of it comforts me. I wish things were truly usual; that this really was just an average morning. But the twisting in my gut denies this wish. I pull at a strand of my own hair, feeling the roots pull at my scalp. I can hardly believe I threw myself so foolishly into such a situation.

I rest my chin in my hands and sigh again, more deeply. The elegant room glares down at me and I'm overwhelmed by paranoia. Xavier's probably sitting in Cross' office right now, taking each piece of the story and fitting them together like a little puzzle, with Cross taking the occasional piece of information and fixing it between Xavier's. When the puzzle is completed, they'll show it off to the Council like proud children, the puzzle with my name scrawled across its surface in blood.

I pull at my hair again, wincing. The mattress of my bed rises as I stand; raking long fingers through my hair and shaking my head. My heart beats in my throat, in my hands and in my ears while my stomach turns. The sky outside the window is dark and sharp, the blackness of it swallowing the world, shadowy fingers stretching across the long patches of grass and pavement below. A nipping wind reels in the trees, tearing the last leafs of autumn out of their grey-brown arms and carrying them away.

A solitary raindrop drips down the window pane, silent and lonesome, the leader of many more that dribble out of the clouds; pulling themselves away from the frothy greyness.

I open the window and reach out a hand, feeling the occasional splutter of wetness on my bare palm, feeling the wind whistle through the gaps of my fingers. The air is heavy and warm in a sticky, uncomfortable way that is unusual for this time of year.

I retract my hand and wipe the water onto the lacy nightgown I'm wearing before turning for the door and slipping through, leaving the window open as a trail of wind curls through the curtains and padding softly down the hallway with the perfect paintings and the welcomingly soft colours painted across the walls. I run my hand along the smooth surface of them, wondering; as I did last night and the night before, if tonight will be my last at Cross Academy.

I emerge into the courtyard and glide right through the gate and into the main grounds. I walk slowly, my head down and my arms crossed. My night gown exposes my arms and legs and I can almost feel a shiver under my pale skin. I am glad the night is unusually warm and the rain is soft and light.

A tear melts into the water running down my cheeks and I collapse onto a patch of dark, wet grass, curling into the fresh smell of it. The rain continues to wash over me, drenching my hair and clothes and I welcome it like a good friend, content laying here and wallowing in water and paranoia.

"What are you doing here, Sora?" A soft voice inquires over the rain, the ends of each word almost lost to the drum of rain drops.

I answer without thinking. "The clouds and I, we are crying."

An almost indistinguishable "oh" barely floats over the continued patter of liquid on solid surface, and I turn to see who is talking to me. A foot away from my own huddled form stands the thin frame, ivory face, and shaggy red hair of Shiki Senri, his crystalline eyes betraying almost no emotion whatsoever. I watch them, searching for something, barely catching a slight swirl of concern in their far away depths.

A trickle of rain drips down his nose and pools of it run out of his hair before leaking onto his silvery dress shirt and dark jeans. I smile a little, being face to face with someone who has occasionally slipped into my dreams and half-asleep musings.

He curls his long legs, sitting with them under his slender body, and pulls at a strand of my hair, tucking it behind my ear and brushing some of the water off my face; the water and the tears.

"I think I just might join you." He whispers, resting his head on the grass, his hair spreading around him like a deep crimson halo and becoming darker with mud. I find I can't breathe or respond, and my fingers begin to pull at the sweet smelling grass, my eyes locked on Shiki's face; the eyes that betray no emotion, keeping it locked inside his heart instead. Once again, I wish he would smile. I wish he would smile for me.

But he doesn't.

He's smiled for Rima. He always smiles for Rima. I close my eyes.

**Some Shiki because Shiki is wonderful. Review please! **


	14. He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

**I am thinking of getting a beta. Maybe I will, maybe I won't. If anyone reading would like to beta this, I'd like to know! :)**

**He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not**

This was rotten luck, having to clean the class rooms on a Saturday, just so they're tidy when the students trickle back in for their lessons. Detention with a bit of overbearing prefect tossed in. Misery salad; serves one Tarot and one Ichijou.

I smile acrimoniously. Zero narrows his eyes. Typical Zero. I toss a cloth over to him, not bothering to wring it out. He catches it with the tips of his fingers and manages to direct the spray of soapy water away from his body. I hum and turn away.

"How dainty of you." I laugh lightly, pushing my hair out of my eyes. He could give Klutz a lesson in catching, I'll give him that.

Ichijou walks in just at that moment, clutching two chalk board erasers in his hands and clapping them together, watching the dust puff out from between the red and black fuzz that covers one side. He wears a look of complete concentration, marching along to the beat of every dull tap when the erasers collide.

I pick up another eraser and tap it on the tip of his nose, smiling as he laughs and tries to brush off the dust.

"I thought vampires were supposed to be refined." Zero hisses at us, snapping the cloth I'd given him over one of the many desks in the classroom, his lavender eyes filled with loathing.

Ichijou waves a hand at him and places the erasers on the ledge of the chalkboard, plucking mine out my hand and shaking his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Zero growls under his breath, picking up his cloth and dipping it back in the bucket of sudsy water that sits on the teacher's desk before returning to his washing of the walls, which; in my opinion, is a pointless job. How do you get dirt on a wall? And, more importantly, who cares?

I begin to sing when Zero's angry thoughts become too powerful to ignore. I wonder what makes him so gloomy, what could lead him to feel so strongly. When I first met him, I wondered if his attitude was just a mask, adopted to make us listen to him so he could do his job without any problems. I even briefly considered that it was just a suit of armour worn to protect him from other people and make them fear him and leave him alone, but that isn't Zero at all. That's Klutz.

No, Zero really does seem to be a bossy, mean person, and it wouldn't feel right to snoop and see if he is anything else as well. His privacy is just a valuable as anyone else's.

I sponge away a bit of grime from one of the desks, avoiding all the writing and drawings that litter them. Creative expression deserves to be on the desks, and most of the words are mine anyway. I smile a little, reading over some of the silly things I wrote all over the "school property." It's vandalism, the teacher said. I think it's beautiful.

A puff of warm breath tickles the back of my neck, and I can tell it's not Ichijou standing behind me.

"Why aren't you washing the desks _properly_?" A low voice asks me, full of contempt. I huff, turning around to face Zero, his face in a permanent scowl.

"I _am_ washing them properly, according to me." I tell him, running a finger over a collection of small drawings depicting my view on our lesson several nights ago. He scoffs and pulls the cloth out of my hand, telling me he'll do it himself if I'm too above the rules to take our job seriously, his voice getting louder with every syllable. I wince, feeling the sting in his words and the anger in his troubled mind.

I may joke about it, but I can't stand being yelled at. Zero takes his anger out on my masterpieces, his teeth clenched and his silver hair swaying with the jerky movements of his long arm. I pluck at the back of his shirt, waiting for him to whirl around, wanting him to stop abusing my poor sketches, one thought stuck in my head. I wish I had done them in sharpie.

Eventually, he can't stand my incessant plucking and spins around to face me, looking murderous.

"Please don't." I say simply, widening my eyes. Yeah, I'm okay with begging.

"Why would you care if I wipe away some _human's _drawings?" He snaps before turning back to his cleaning. And I forget to hum.

He hates vampires. That's it. A string of thoughts is all I catch, but it was a revealing one. He can't stand our kind. I tap his shoulder. I know he's annoyed, but I don't care. Okay, so I do a little. I can't help but be a bit scared of Zero's strong presence, the hatred leaking out almost as freely as Sora's sadness had when we first arrived here.

Instead of saying anything, he storms away from the desks and goes back to washing walls with such force I fear the poor wall will fall over backwards any second.

Ichijou shrugs his slender shoulders when I turn to him, one eyebrow raised quizzically.

I resist the urge to call Zero a drama queen. It is a powerful urge, too. I pull out a pencil and scrawl it onto the desk I am sitting on, reaching the chorus of a wonderfully cheerful song that seems to make Zero want to tear his hair out. I then begin to make a nice border for the all too true words, making the D a nice little crown and underlining it all with a squished and stretched Z, for Zero.

"You're too lazy, Tarot!" Ichijou throws the words over his shoulder while he pulls a set of brooms out of the closet opposite the open door to the classroom, his blonde hair just covering dazzlingly blue eyes. He rests his chin on my shoulder, examining the words on the desk.

"For Zero." I mouth to him, and he chuckles before handing me a broom.

"Don't want to be here all night!" He grins at me, beginning to brush away the dirt from around my heels. I jump down and begin to sweep, still signing.

I watch Ichjou laugh and begin to dance with his own broom, stepping perfectly to the song I picked, one that is often used at vampire balls. Not that I'd ever been to one. I am glad Zero has chosen not to comment this time, instead focusing solely on the pencils he is now sharpening.

It suddenly strikes me that this is our detention, not Zero's. Why would he agree to clean up with us just for our punishment?

"Do you always tidy the class room, Zed?" I ask him, trying to find his face from under the curtain of silver hair blocking it.

"Sometimes Yuuki does it instead." He growls, obviously annoyed at the question.

I nod and continue to sweep, picking up where I'd dropped off the song. Ichijou mouths the words dramatically and drops a pan of dirt into the garbage can, seemly oblivious to the tense atmosphere Zero's attitude creates.

I just can't wait to get away from the emotional smog.

* * *

Shiki's eyes are soft, something I've never really noticed before. They aren't sharp or intense or bright. His voice is soft too; comforting. His gaze keeps drifting towards me as we walk back to the Moon Dorm, my eyes having dried and the rain having stopped.

I look over at the building where we take our lessons, its heavy brick structure dark and looming in the darkness. I know Tarot is in there, serving a detention. I almost expect her to jump out of the shadows as we walk past and cling onto my arm like she always does. She always seems to find me, but today she stays put.

I run my hand over one frilly sleeve of my night gown, glancing briefly at Shiki, his face hidden in shadow and maroon, rain drenched hair. It looks flat and thick around his pale face, the locks that usually defy gravity and reach for the sky weighed down by water and his bangs clinging to his skin.

I look down at my feet, feeling my cheeks becoming warm. I barely notice that I am not wearing any shoes, my heels brushing against bumpy stone with every step I take. The cement is streaked with different shades of gray and black where shadows stretch across it; perfectly serene and cruelly sharp at the same time.

We step into darkness as we near the gate, the large tree that grows in the Moon Dorm courtyard's branches reaching over us as we walk along the fence. Neither of us says a word, but the silence isn't uncomfortable, it seems peaceful, and I don't want to go back to my room and leave Shiki's side. I feel almost like I'm walking through a dream, like I haven't woken up yet. I feel like if I go inside, the dream will end. Shiki will realize that he likes the benevolent Rima, not the over emotional Sora.

Shiki pulls open the iron gate with a sweep and stands to let me by before closing it behind us, a half hearted complaint coming from the hinges. I smile at him, wanting to thank him for cheering me up, for trying to make me feel better. Instead, I nod and move along the path to the door, letting my eyelids drop in disappointment at my sudden lack of ability to utter a single word.

Shiki follows me up the stairs and to my room, silent and beautiful. We reach my door and I place a hand on the handle, not wanting to twist it.

"Good night, Yoru Sora." Shiki watches me with his faded eyes. The whole world seems to have a heartbeat.

I try to thank him, the words dancing at the tip of my tongue, drifting out of reach of the lips that want so much to say them.

Shiki turns and drifts back down the hall, the water dripping off him leaving a trail on the carpet.

I whisper a thank you to his retreating back, knowing he can't hear it. The door knob looks even less inviting now, but I twist it anyway, feeling the coolness of the gold stained brass before slipping into the room, tracking fallen rain water across the expensive marble and feeling a lot like Tarot; complete disregard for cleanliness.

My time with Shiki was both wondrous and torturous, contradicting thoughts playing through my head. I should have said goodbye. I should have said _something_. He brushed away my tears, tried to comfort me. He didn't smile.

He loves me, he loves me not.

**I actually had to look up what door knobs are made out of for this chapter. **


	15. Take A Double Take

** was walking down the street today, and this chapter just swirled around in my head. I had to write it down.  
**

**Take A Double Take**

_A wild giggle escapes the pretty young girl's lips; her bright red dress fanning out around her as she spins; arms out in front of her in anticipation of the inevitable fall that always follows after a person becomes too dizzy. She feels the whip of dark blue hair against her pale cheeks, the grass tickling her small bare feet, the sun beaming down on her from above, sees the world rushing past in a swirl of summer colours. _

_She knows she shouldn't be outside, not in the day time, when the sun could burn her sensitive skin; but she can't help but adore the bright colours, tints and shades no one ever notices when darkness cloaks and hides them. The feeling of the sun's rays on her exposed back, shoulders, legs, and arms isn't uncomfortable. In fact, she relishes every moment, hiding the feeling somewhere in her memory, the feeling of being warm, like that great orb of fire is embracing her. _

_She slumps onto the soft grass, her head reeling and her mouth still laughing. A cluster of fluffy clouds hangs lazily in the perfectly blue sky and the girl's bright green eyes watch them, picking out shapes in the white masses. An elephant and a party dress. _

_She closes her eyes, long dark eyelashes quivering. The sloping lawns of her parents' mansion seem inviting and friendly in the day time, sprawled out in bright green waves. Grass stains cover her dress and the dainty red ribbon that her parents had chosen to accompany it has drifted off the girl's head, but she ignores these obvious signs of disobedience. She doesn't know that grass leaves a mark on clothes, or that her parents would later pluck the ribbon out of the grass when they woke up and rush to examine the girl's dress. She knew none of these things, so she was happy; care free. She didn't know that, once again, she would be caught for wandering out after her strict 4:00am bedtime. _

_Yes, it wasn't the first time that Tarot Oshiro had crept out of her bedroom window and crept along the shingles on the mansions roof before leaping onto the patio below and crawling down the protruding bricks of the house that were meant to add style. To her, they were less a fashion statement and more a pathway to a freedom she was never allowed to taste. _

_When the sun reaches its highest point in the glorious sky, the young girl climbs back into her open bedroom window, closing the light blocking blinds, changes into her night gown, and slips into her bed. She lays awake for hours, thinking about her excursion, thinking about how she managed to defy her parents again, wishing she were allowed to venture out during the day, just for a while. Wishing she were allowed to venture out at all. _

_x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x_

_A tall, luxurious women wearing a conservative black dress and an ugly expression stands over the young girl with the large green cat eyes and the obviously blue hair, holding a Christmas tree dress in her manicured fingers. The bright, expensive looking fabric is weakened and stained with green, hanging limp and unloved in the strict woman's grip. In her other hand, a ribbon the exact colour of the dress that is held opposite hangs dejectedly between the woman's long fingers._

_"What, exactly, is this?" Her voice is sugar coated and fake, contradicting the anger in her eyes. _

_The girl looks down at her feet, which have also been stained by fresh grass, shuffling them nervously and shrugging._

_"You know what it is!" The woman tells the girl, shaking one thin shoulder so Tarot's unhappy gaze is fixed on the woman's sharp but beautiful face. The girl's eyes instantly well with tears and she looks back at her toes, plucking at her night gown. _

_"You disobedient child," The woman shakes her head, looking disgraced. "Why can't you listen to your mother?" _

_The girl knows it's a rhetorical question, so she stares at her feet a little longer. She knows she is a bad girl, that she is a problem child. Her mother likes to stress this. _

_"We have company tonight. They will be arriving within the hour. Get into that nice white dress and some white shoes, like a normal child." Tarot's mother's voice has become softer, but the words still hurt to the seven year old girl. She knows she's not a normal child. _

_The white dress and the white shoes with the white hair ribbon and the white clips. Tarot watches her reflection in the mirror, dark spots visible under her eyes from lack of sleep due to her day time wanderings and navy hair that is the only colour visible. She wishes the outfit wasn't all white, because enough white is enough, in her mind. _

_But who trusts her mind? Not her parents, not anyone. She isn't a normal child after all. Her mother says so, so it must be true. _

_The guests arrive in a flurry of swift hellos and shaking hands. Tarot tries to take her mother's hand, but it isn't there when she reaches for it. It's held in front of her while the woman looks down at her daughter's grabbing fingers, but the hand doesn't reach down to take them. _

_Tarot is nervous to be around he guests, and her mother is nervous exposing her to them. _

_After all, Tarot is not a normal child. No, according to Miss. Oshiro, Tarot is very much insane. She hears voices in her head. Miss. Oshiro is very nervous indeed, admitting that she has birthed such a problem child. A child, who, despite being a vampire, enjoys the day more than the cool calm of the night. _

_Tarot sits at the tea table beside her mother, trying to make polite conversation while the voices buzz in her poor ears. She tries to sip her tea while flashes of strange scenes pass through her mind. _

_Then, when the others start to talk and the voices that are there and aren't there overlap, Tarot can no longer concentrate on talking. When the flashes begin to intensify as the vampires around her begin to reflect on things they have done and need to do and search for suitable stories to tell their guests or hosts, she can no longer sip her tea. Instead, she focuses on staying on her seat. Finally, she can bear it no longer and leaps out of her chair with an anguished cry._

_"Be quiet! Hush, all of you! Stop! Stop!" She clutches her poor young head and dashes from the room, leaving her mother embarrassed and flustered, muttering things like "She's not mentally stable, I'm so sorry, she's not right in the head."_

_And Tarot seeks out the safety of her room, where the only voice in her head is her own. _

_x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x_

_The girl stands in front of a dark bay window, taller, older, more beautiful, with long waving hair, intelligent eyes and a pale complexion that is slightly less ivory than that of the other vampires, signing softly to herself and feeling as though the thoughts of her parents drift away as the words come out. _

_She was not a problem child, she was not insane. She could read minds, and now that she can control it, she is never tormented by people's thoughts and past experiences or future happenings. She told her ashamed mother about this. Now her parents think she is delusional. _

_She can hear the mental battles they wage about her, wondering what to do with her, wondering if she is dangerous. Wondering why they ever wanted a child. They didn't want this one, no way. _

_All they want, after spending almost 15 years with her, is to shift the hardships of having a mentally instable girl to someone else. They want to send her away to Cross Academy, where they readily accept young vampires._

_Of course, the hardships were all in their heads. Maybe they were the delusional ones. The girl is not insane. She's not. Tarot is not insane. _

_I'm not insane, I'm not insane. _

"I'm not insane, not... I'm not." I wake to my own whispers, tossing in the bed sheets. It's the same dream I've been having since arriving here, observing my life as though the future me is sitting right at the kitchen table, or on a patch of sweet grass nearby all those old memories.

I yawn and roll over, glad to be away from that house and thinking of my mother, whom I tried so hard to love. She always rejected me, pushing away my hugs and refusing to take my hand as a toddler, when all I wanted was comfort from the person who was meant to comfort me.

Several beams of light trickle through the curtains and I toss the blankets away from my body, smirking.

I throw on a light jacket, knowing it's cold outside, even though the sun is acting as a natural heater for the world. I smile as I walk down the hallway, running my hand along the wall, thinking of the clouds and the cyan sky and the colours.

I open the Moon Dorm door, half smiling genuinely and half smirking mischievously. The sun sparkles like a great clump of beautiful gold. Maybe I'm not normal, loving the day like I do. I laugh, fling my arms out to my side and twirl in complete mirth.

Time to relieve the best part of my childhood.

**I wrote this. I can't believe it, because I wrote it without stopping and then looked back and reread it in total shock. I had planned something like this, but it's like Tarot was telling _me _about her life, not the other way around. Please review, because I have lost control of my story and given it to my characters? Pity me?**


	16. Tall, Stark, and Handsome

**Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry. My computer was broken. I could not write. I wanted to so badly, I sat in class and snapped at people for no reason because I wanted to write this chapter and I couldn't. I had to replace one of the cords for my computer, so I did and now the computer is better and I can write. This is dedicated to my bud Cassidy because she was there to listen to me rant about my mean computer. **

**I just realized that I forgot to translate that bit of Englanese (my word for Japanese written with English characters) last chapter. Yoru Sora means Night Sky, the title being Night's Sky. Haha. Get it? **

**Tall, Stark, and Handsome**

The snap of the door and click of shoes on the marble floor reach my semi-conscious ears, affectively pulling me out of my light sleep. I lift my head an inch from my pillow, listening as someone pulls the hangings from Tarot's bed with a faint screech that seems intensified in the silence. I lift a piece of the cloth that makes up my own bed curtains and watch as Tarot climbs into her bed, hair mussed and night gown stained green.

"What've you been at?" I ask her sleepily, still dragging myself out of sleep.

"I've stained my clothes and nobody cares." Tarot whispers to me, giggling a little. I smile tiredly, although I have no idea what she means. My head feels light with drowsiness.

"The sun is glorious, Sora." I can tell Tarot's head is buzzing with ideas, and her voice is elated. "I haven't been out like that in a very long time. I'd almost forgotten how wonderful it is."

I don't question what she's saying because she just continues, as though being up at this time of day has made her tongue loose. She tells me of blue skies and the yellow sun and how the world is lighter and brighter and grander. She tells me how she used to sneak out to glimpse the day time when she was younger. I listen, half awake, occasionally adding something to the conversation I probably won't remember tonight. And then I fall asleep, listening to Tarot ramble.

* * *

I'm more than a little surprised to see Sora watching me through a gap in her bed curtains as I come in the room. Was I that noisy? Her eyes try to catch mine, the deep azure clouded with sleep.

A string of almost incoherent words float out of her mouth. "What've you been at?" I almost laugh. That's not how Sora usually talks at all.

Instead of chuckling, however; I tell just what I've "been at." I tell her about the day. The happy thoughts are worth sharing, I think, because I really do feel wonderful.

I missed you, old man sun.

I keep talking even though Sora has fallen asleep, ignoring the fact that talking to yourself is supposed to be a "sign of insanity." That's funny, too. Hardy har har.

I lay with my arms over my head, watching as the light outside gradually dims and my eyes feel weighted. I yawn, glad it's a Sunday and I can sleep into the night without missing classes or anything. And the darkness envelopes me, and the sleep follows with it.

* * *

I look over at Daichi sadistically because it scares him. He looks away fearfully and I almost smile but I don't because I can imagine what Tarot would say if I did and I'm not cute. Daichi puts his thumb in his mouth in typical Daichi style and I just glare at him and he just sits and wishes I would leave him alone.

So I do. I just get up and leave, snarling a little as I pass him. He jumps and gasps. I laugh internally. I guess there is a slight advantage to having a roommate: boredom relief. And Daichi is the jumpiest excuse for a human being I have ever met, so he's annoying as well as amusing.

I don't want to go outside because I don't like it outside very much, but I don't want to stay in there with Daichi and outside is better than being near him even if it is fun to watch him squirm.

The sun is high and bright and I squint because it's _too_ bright and I don't like that. And the sky is a periwinkle blue, a colour that I've never liked and the air is crisp and I'm not wearing a jacket and I wish the sun was warmer and stronger and less bright and less annoying.

I kick up some dead leaves on the ground and they crackle and crunch under my boots. I liked them better on the trees, instead of littering the path and getting in my way.

I wander the grounds, trying to hide my cold nose in my uniform. I pass several groups of people laughing and talking loudly and I sneer at them because they are disturbing me and I don't even know what I'm doing that they could be disturbing but it bothers me and I wish they would go back inside.

And then I see Tarot, and I almost bump into a pole.

Yeah, a ruddy pole. I seem to be doing a lot of bumping into things lately and I blame it on the Night Class because I need to blame it on _someone _and they need a reality check so there you go.

Tarot is sitting up in a tree, smiling lightly to herself and it's day time. I thought vampires were supposed to disintegrate in the sun or something, but she's definitely whole. It would be more interesting if she did just disintegrate. I watch for a second, wondering if it just takes a bit of time.

And then she jumps out of the tree and goes back inside. Way to smash a man's dreams. I suppose I can't expect anything less of someone from the Night Class. They think they have the right to do anything they want and they're so egotistical.

And I don't want to be outside anymore. I hate the outdoors! Whose idea was it that I should go for a walk?

Making Daichi flinch is a better waste of my time.

* * *

When I awaken, the air is calm and silent. I sit up and pull open my hangings, my blood running slightly faster. There is no joyous singing leaking out of the bathroom or tap of shower water or ruffle of clothes, just deep penetrating silence. I creep out of my bed and move into the bathroom, feet padding across the marble floor and navigating automatically around the chairs in the room, a weight lifted off my shoulders since Tarot told me how she handled Xavier last night. I can handle the mind reading; in fact, I think it was brilliant of her to use his thoughts like that, as long as that boy's mouth stays shut and Tarot never tries to read _my _mind.

I snap the door shut and smile. The cold floor under my toes is dry and the counter is clear, cleanliness I haven't fully experienced since Tarot joined my in this room as she always uses the bathroom first, leaving a mess in her wake.

I wonder why Tarot didn't wake up early like she usually does, but the thought doesn't linger for very long. I step over the lip of the tub and spin the brass taps, smiling wider as I realize that Tarot hasn't had the chance to use all the warm water.

When I re-enter the dorm room, Tarot is sitting on her bed, long navy hair messy and falling loosely around her shoulders. She half smiles at me, one corner of her lips tilting upwards while the other remains stationary. She has slipped several earrings on and they poke through the long waves of hair that cover her ears, reds and golds and silvers and brassy browns. Judging by the warm colours of her jewellery today, she will be wearing something green or purple or blue in typical Tarot fashion.

I dress in a loose shirt and jeans, not planning on doing anything tonight. I find that I was previously mistaken in guessing at Tarot's potential choice of clothes. She doesn't wear something green _or _purple _or _blue, she wears each colour, and that's her shirt alone.

I smile at her and she smiles back. I feel much closer to my roommate now that I've known her for a while, but mainly I've accepted her as a friend because she knows my secret... and tries her best to keep it.

I realize that her non-stop humming has turned into words, the tuneless speech of conversation.

"I just can't believe that Mrs. Takahashi sometimes, it's not like I was disturbing the class or anything. It's none of her business what Ichijou and I are talking, er... writing, about. I've about had it with detentions, I think." I can tell I've tuned in to Tarot's chatter too late. She's always making some sort of noise; it's difficult to tell when to properly listen.

"Have you ever thought of paying attention in class, Tarot? That may fix your detention problem." I watch her tentatively, wondering how she'll take this.

"It's not my fault teach gives me detention. If she'd just restrain her disciplinary urges we'd all be fine, wouldn't we?" Tarot tilts her head, as though honestly asking for my opinion on the matter.

I simply turn to make my bed, tying the thick crimson hangings into bundles and smoothing out the pearl coloured sheets with the back of my hand. Tarot continues her rant, wondering aloud about everything from school curriculum to what socks she should wear today. The more time I spend with Tarot the more she talks, it seems, like she's just becoming comfortable with speaking to me openly.

"...why he's always on my case, talk about "tall, _stark, _and handsome..." I catch a piece of what Tarot is saying and spin to face her, the question I'm about to ask probably written all over my face.

"Did you just say Zero is... handsome?" Bewilderment sneaks into my words no matter how hard I try to suppress it, my voice hesitating and my lips folding into another smile, something that's been happening more and more lately.

Tarot shrugs her slender shoulders and winks at me, laughing airily. "Don't even try to disagree." She pulls out a pair of peach and black coloured socks, examining them like they are captivating and important.

I raise my eyebrows at her, fluffing a circular cream pillow.

"Well, you think Shiki's handsome." She states it like blatant fact. Sometimes her veracity can be unnerving, because I know she grabbed that from my mind at some point, although she has no shame in admitting that she knows more than I care to tell.

I huff and drift back into the bathroom, dragging a towel off its rack and dabbing it on the moist floor, the remnants of my shower. Tarot just smiles knowingly and sits in the middle of the floor, ignoring the many champagne chairs around her. I continue to clean the bathroom as she sings softly, running her fingers through her thick hair in an attempt to untangle it.

**A little bit short, but the horrible thing is... I think I have writers block and this crazy need to write non –stop _at the same time._ I didn't think it was possible, but, alas, nothing is impossible once it happens. **


	17. For The Love Of Pocky

**Long chapter name ne? For Peachie-Trishie and dedicated to Katherine Kuran because she is still as awesome as when I used to dedicate everything to her.**

*** For everyone who already read this chapter. I realized that I forgot to take out the notes I left! This wasn't actually the version I wanted to post, but I took out the notes, so all better! Sorry if you get alerted about this twice because of my editing!**

Rima twirls her pencil from the seat next to me, her chin resting in one pale hand. I pull a strand of hair out of my face, gazing disinterestedly at the teacher and fingering the box of pocky that sits, waiting, in my front pocket.

Rima hisses something at me, alerting me to the teacher, whose interests have wandered to my spot near the front row.

"Shiki? The atomic weight of sodium, please." Her voice is a low drawl, boredom crouching behind the commanding tone.

"23." I tell her lazily, without glancing up at her sharp but elegant features and picking at the cuff of my uniform.

"Unrounded please, Shiki." She clasps her hands in front of her slim torso, her tone unchanged.

"22.98977." I sigh and glance at Rima, who is sitting straight in her chair and still twirling her pencil.

The teacher nods curtly and moves on, her lecture barely splitting my conscious. I yawn and watch Rima pointedly, waiting for her to turn to me after sensing my eyes on her. Eventually she shifts her weight so she's barely facing me, blonde pig tails swishing with the movement.

"Would you like to go to town with me after class, Rima? I am becoming rather bored of the unchanging scenery that is Cross Academy." I whisper to my childhood friend, trying to hide my voice behind Tarot and Ichijou's poorly disguised chatter behind us.

"Shiki, you have forgotten that we are going to town during the day for a photo shoot." She mutters back disinterestedly.

I nod and turn back to picking at my cufflink, feeling a small pang of annoyance at her lack of interest in my question and mentally kicking myself for forgetting our appointment to model for a popular teen clothing line that is doing a piece in a well known magazine.

The rest of class passes without any further discussions between us, and when the teacher finally dismisses us for the night I rise slowly, yawning and stretching. Rima waits for me at the door, watching her sister, Sora, gathering her things and approaching Tarot and Ichijou, another childhood friend of mine. I watch her leave with them, remembering our outing a couple nights ago; how I had wanted so badly to protect her from whatever ill fate she was grieving over.

I pull out my box of pocky and extract a piece, biting off the end as I approach Rima. She reaches out a slender arm and takes a piece for herself before we exit the class room and make for the Moon Dorm across from it to sleep before leaving for our shoot.

When I meet Rima by the steel gates that block the outside world from the boarding school, the sun has already risen and I slip gratefully under her dusty pink parasol. She then proceeds to open the large gates and exit into the street, looking off into space.

We walk to this job, as it is on the same street as Cross Academy and most of the sun's rays are hidden behind pearly white clouds. The journey isn't unpleasant, with Rima's delicate white dress swirling and various humans staring openly at the sight of us.

We arrive early for the shoot to allow time for the makeup artists and clothes designers to fiddle over us. The girl who has been assigned to me practically bounces towards me, her flashy pink hair bobbing around her face. Rima waves a goodbye before walking away with her own stylist, a short dark haired girl with large eyes and a small smile.

"Hiya! I would be Aisha and you would be the wonderful Shiki Senri! Oh gosh, you are gorgeous. Here, here. Come over here, let's get started." My stylist gushes constantly, waving her hands to accentuate what she is saying. I move along with her, letting her do all the talking and changing into the first outfit she hands me.

Rima joins me moments after in a sleeveless top and blue jeans. Her hair is down and her bangs have been moved out of her face, making her look quite different than when it's up in the pig tails she almost always wears.

We move onto a green screen and pose for the camera man. He calls out comments and compliments, smiling happily. I have noticed that most of the people who work with us are very flamboyant.

As we move towards the end of the shoot and start on winter apparel, my energy begins to wane and I call for a pause in the photograph taking. I find my jeans in the dressing room that had been assigned to me for the duration of this shoot and rummage for my packet of pocky, taking several pieces out and handing a few to Rima, who accepts them with a small smile.

My chirpy attendant bounces in behind the camera man and beams at the both us before turning to him and talking animatedly, her bubblegum hair bouncing brightly. The man smiles and pecks both of her cheeks before turning his deep brown gaze to us, standing and eating chocolate pocky.

"Why, Shiki, you have had a brilliant idea!" He beams and snakes his arm around Aisha's shoulders.

Rima glances at me. I have learned to read her emotions quite well in all the time I've spent with the blonde and, despite the seeming emptiness in her eyes, I can see that she is vaguely confused.

Aisha proceeds to; thankfully, inform us what my supposed idea was. "Do you have any more pocky Shiki? We could definitely work something in with it." I can tell she knows that I had had no such idea and had felt the need to explain what was; most likely, actually her idea.

I nod apathetically and wave the other sticks I had taken from my pocket slowly at her, watching Rima raise one eyebrow at me, though the action is almost unnoticeable.

Aisha squeals and sits in a chair next to the camera man, who has already moved into position.

"Just wing it, guys; this is going to be fantastic." His voice has snapped into professional mode, so neither I nor Rima question his decision.

Rima guides me for the first few shots. She has always been more of a natural in front of a camera; it takes me longer to become comfortable.

When the camera man is content in the number of shots we've taken, he beckons Rima and me over to show us which shots he thinks will have the most chance of being in the magazine. I'm not particularly interested, as I know I will be seeing them when they actually _are_ in the magazine, but I linger over his shoulder simply to make him happy.

Rima and I walk back to Cross Academy in a semi blinding glare of sunlight and stop halfway down the street in a small candy shop, our sole purpose, of course, being to escape the sun. I pick up several packages of chocolate and strawberry pocky too, glad that we had chosen to stop in this particular building, which carries quite a supply of the candy.

The sun seems more bearable when Rima and I are eating the sweet, and our trip back to Cross Academy is quite uneventful. We arrive back at the school before the Day Class came out of classes and I even manage to sleep for a few wonderful minutes.

x~x~x~x~x~x~x

"Here you are, a copy of _Fashion Forward." _Rima drops a glossy looking paper back onto my stomach, her slender frame standing next to the bed in which I was previously sleeping. I glance at the cover and am quite surprised. Looking back at me are the shiny photo versions of Rima and I, standing in front of what appears to be the Eiffel tower and clutching a piece of pocky each.

I flip to the contents page, where bright green lettering announces the "For the Love of Pocky" photo shoot, informing me that it was "a glamorous performance showcasing the Bridge clothing line" and that I can see it all on page 7.

I flip to the page and examine the pictures, all of which seem to take place somewhere in France, explaining the green screen. Rima watches me carefully, waiting for my opinion on the spread. I simply hand her a piece of pocky from off my bedside table and swing my legs out of bed.

"It is an honour to have gained the front page so early in our careers." Rima informs me, snapping off a bit of her pocky and watching me from under her bangs.

I nod, biting into my own piece of the candy and raise it with a small smile. "For the love of pocky."

"For the love of pocky." Rima agrees, raising her own stick and smiling.

**Short chapter, I know! I just thought it was a good line to end it on. Until the next one!**


	18. Awkward Feelings

**Silly Sora... And you may want to look up the exact definition of "clipped." It fits vampires so well! And vrykolakas princess asked if Ichijou would end up with Tarot. I actually thought of making Ichijou be gay, but Katherine Kuran was mad and refused to let me, so then I thought of putting him with Tarot and she didn't like that either because "he is hers." So as of yet Ichijou is asexual. Haha.**

**Awkward Feelings**

I trace the dents in on the pale wood of my desk, my shoulders slumped and my body tense. The steady drone of words from our teacher floats over my head, my eyes flicking from my knees to a pair of crystalline eyes sporadically and my stomach jumping occasionally.

Shiki Senri, his own shoulders straight and his demeanour relaxed, sits next to me, thick hair resting against his pale neck and around the soft skin of his cheeks. I try not to stare, but my eyes jump to the slightly shadowed cheek bones and perfect features despite my attempts to keep my gaze on the teacher.

My breath hitches when his head turns and our eyes lock. I swivel away, catching a faint glare from Rima as I do, her arm resting on the back of her own chair, beautiful face brushed with more anger than I've ever seen there before as she watches my blush deepen and my fingers curl in my lap.

"Is something wrong, Sora?" The soft voice flows smoothly from beside me and I turn back to face Shiki, blushing deeper than ever.

"Yes, I'm alright." I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, looking back at my knees.

An airy chuckle makes my gaze drifts upwards again, and I can see that Shiki is almost smiling, the mask of apathy fading from black to grey. "So, is something wrong or are you alright?"

I blink, my finger halting in its path over a dent on the desk and I mull over what Shiki had said. "Oh, er... nothing is wrong." I let the hair I had pushed out of my face hide it again, suddenly thankful that I haven't cut my bangs yet and trying to hide the ever deepening blush inevitably dusting my cheeks.

Shiki nods and turns away, his eyes travelling towards Rima. She sighs and turns back around; pulling a box of pocky half way out of her pocket and slipping it back in. Shiki smiles a little and pulls a stick of the candy from his own pocket, eating it silently.

I furrow my eyebrows at my sister's strange ways, watching her tighten one of the deep purple ribbons she's wearing. She flicks her pencil with her thumb and forefinger, her legs crossed behind her and her head tilted towards the blackboard despite its emptiness.

I recommence my tracing of the desk, trying to ignore Tarot as she grumbles about having Ichijou moved away from her. Because Tarot and Ichijou talk almost constantly during class time, the teacher had pulled Shiki up from his spot next to Rima and taken me from the other side of Tarot, placing me beside him in an attempt to put room between the two trouble makers and mumbling about wasted class time. I can't help but be happy about Tarot and Ichijou's separation, as it is the reason Shiki is sitting beside me, and; despite my own awkward feelings for him, I revel in his disconnected presence. This seating arrangement is also, most likely; the reason for the animosity filled looks Rima keeps throwing me every time Shiki glances in my direction.

I let my eyes drift towards the window, where soft snow flakes glide aimlessly downwards against a thick black canvas like falling stars. The white walls contrast sharply against the smooth darkness, making the window seem like a gateway to another world. My gaze slides downwards and lands on Shiki, his profile silhouetted against the night sky outside; pale skin, red hair, blue eyes, and darkness.

I spot Rima in my peripheral vision, indignation drifting through the blankness in her azure eyes and I look away, feeling like her incensed looks are scolding me for the undeniable feelings growing in my heart for the boy sitting next to me. I want to stand up and make it clear to her that it's not my fault if I fancy Shiki and that he doesn't belong to her. Just because she's perfect...

Instead, I continue to trace the lines on my desk and accept that Rima will, as always, get what she wants in her silent, beautiful, lovable way and I will follow in her shadows, the lesser sister. The snow falls heavier, a slight wind pushing it faster into the window pane, swirling it like icy cotton.

Tarot flicks a note at my unmoving hands and I look into her deep green eyes, wanting to ignore the concern pooling in them. I open the note, letting it crunch between my fingers.

Why the sad?

I curl the messy writing and blue lined paper back into a ball and shake my head at Tarot before tucking it into my pocket, hoping she catches the double meaning. I don't want to talk about it and I'm not sad. Both lies, but I'm doing a fair job at convincing myself that they are universal truths.

Tarot sighs and shakes her own head, letting her navy hair fall out from behind her ears and onto the desk, where the strands separate like water. When her head snaps back towards me, her eyes have widened and I can see that she's pouting. I can feel the corners of my mouth twitch upwards at her antics, but the smile fades when the teacher barks at Tarot to "stop disturbing Sora and pay attention." Tarot raises her eyebrows at me and turns back to the front of the class.

I rest my chin in the palm of my hand and watch the chalk board with Rima, trying to find a point of interest which might warrant her staring. Another note is crumpled into my hand and I glance down at it.

The chalk board yields no worthy secrets.

I huff and quickly scrawl out a reply to Tarot, beginning to dread her silence.

Stop it, Tarot, and get back to your humming.

I slide the note into her pocket, trying to be as secretive as she was. I watch her eyes glide over the words and she writes me a response, as though this is a topic worth debating.

I'm not allowed. Teachy gets upset.

I rip the note in half, suddenly feeling defensive. If Tarot isn't humming, she's reading, and I don't want her knowing my thoughts on Shiki and my sister. If there's anything Tarot should be banned from doing, it's _not _humming. My stomach twists and I watch my roommate, hoping for reassurance.

Sora, I already knew you lurve Shiki. Besides, with so many people here I can barely pick out anything. Your secrets are mostly safe. Besides, I'll forget them by tomorrow night. And I won't tell a soul.

I read the note quickly, feeling as though, once again, my trust has been forced into Tarot's hands. Ever since she told me how she'd handled Xavier and about her abilities, I have been wary when she lapses into silence, wondering what she's hearing and seeing.

I can hear Shiki say something to Ichijou, his voice clipped and quiet. I turn to see Ichijou smiling and answering Shiki in an equally quiet tone, a hand blocking half his face as though he's trying to direct all the sound in Shiki's direction. He throws me a small smile before turning back to the front and watching the teacher pointedly, obviously trying to convince her that he is paying attention and that he is worthy of being allowed to sit where he wishes.

I look over at Ruka, who's sitting near Rima. Her long hair has been pushed over her shoulders and she is discreetly watching Kaname out of the corner of her golden eyes. The pureblood is looking disinterestedly at the teacher, his posture one of elegance and strength, dark hair touching his face and dark eyes half lided by long eyelashes. Seiren sits next to him, her eagle eyes flicking between each of our faces as though looking for a threat to Kuran, her back straight and her air one of complete attentiveness, contrary to the boredom etched on every other face in the room. Kain and Aido, the blonde cousins, are sitting next to each other, unmoving save the occasional yawn, their sharp blue eyes dulled by ennui.

Our teacher ignores the general indifference of her class and continues on with her lecture, black hair done up in a tight bun today and strict expression somehow enhancing the sharp beauty of her angled face.

Beauty lingers in every vampire in the room, but my attention is only grasped by the soft features of Shiki. I spend the rest of class lingering on his face, trying to be as discreet as Ruka as she stares at Kaname and hoping he can't feel my eyes, hoping he won't notice my feelings for him and almost wishing he would, that he would feel the same way as I do. But mostly, I hope Rima won't notice that I yearn for the same person she does, that I want so badly to steal the person she's already unofficially claimed.

Her pig tails sit perfect and straight against the back of her chair, different shades of gold spinning together to create the rich colour of her hair. I spin a strand of my own hair, wondering why Rima was blessed enough to have all the nice colours in hers.

When the teacher dismisses us, I follow the spun gold out of the door, letting Tarot hook her arm through mine and looking on as Shiki moves to catch up with Rima, pulling out the box of pocky concealed in his pocket and handing her a piece, asking her how she ran out of her own box so quickly in a velveteen tone.

The Night Class flows silently into the pitch darkness of night, white uniforms shining like the moon in the sky, a great mass of dangerous beauty and falsely serene faces. And I pull my container of blood tablets from my pocket and gulp down a few of the chalky pills, still watching Rima and Shiki disappear into the thick curtain of night.

**I am terribly sorry but I will be away for a while after this and unable to write, so my next post will be delayed by a bit. I tried to get something up before hand, so yesh. I'm not even going to ask you to review anymore; you're doing a good job of that already! Thanks all. **


	19. Paying Respect Part 1

**So, I am going against my better judgment and writing this chapter on my horrid computer. Let's hope it doesn't delete it and I can post! And, and… I would like to make a shout out to Pink Bead Girl for her awesome reviews. They are amazing. I am dedicating this to both her and Katherine Kuran. Okay, Zammue too because she is my life line. **

**HA! i did it. :3**

**Paying Respect Part 1**

My heart had softened as I gazed over the immaculate grounds of Cross Academy and swelled as Tarot emitted a string of curses after running into the door frame. Her banter flew over my head, but the expression filled words and honest tones were as soothing to me as anything.

Cross Academy and the people in it have become a necessary part of my existence, though it has only been a little over two months since I first lay in the large, elegant bed and set eyes on the dorm I share with Tarot. The lifestyle there has become _my _lifestyle: listening to the droll of teacher's voices, drowning the memories of my past life in my present one. It is a constantly repeating circle, the odd occurrence fragmenting routine and making the cycle more interesting.

This comfort, this security, is the reason I am more than unwilling to revisit the grand mansion where I spent my childhood, where my parents died.

The shimmering black car I'm riding in purrs as we slide to a halt in front a steady red light. The dark buildings on either side of us steady themselves and the lights glowing from a long line of street lamps hover to stand still and focus on patches of black pavement.

I tilt my head to watch my sister as she sits placidly, her hands folded neatly on her lap. My eyes slide back to the window, my mind ducking back into its own depths. My thoughts drift back to the same scene, when I was sitting quiescently by the window in Cross Academy, Tarot talking behind me. A series of taps had resounded throughout the room and Headmaster Cross himself had entered to inform me that a car would be arriving at about 11:00pm to gather Rima and me.

So now I am sitting in the vehicle while the soft scent of leather seats and newness drifts around my head and the occasional small sigh punctures the silence as Rima gazes at the back of our driver's head, looking but undoubtedly not seeing.

I wonder what the other attendees to the boarding school will be doing over the winter break, what kind of wonderful adventure Tarot will be experiencing. Because I know Tarot's break will be exciting, everything around her usually is.

The light flicks to a deep, electric green and the car hums back into motion. I push my nose against the frosty glass and breathe deeply as the car accelerates, hunching my shoulders and staring at the back of the seat in front of me.

I wonder why my aunt is allowing us to come home for the holidays, to stay in the huge marble mansion, if only for a matter of days. I know she wants to have a proper funeral for my parents and that she can't deny the fact that, as their children, we should be present for such an event, but it is strange that, as our guardian, she is allowing us to remain in the building alone, no matter how little she truly cares for our well being. Unless her opinion has dramatically shifted, she prefers children to be constantly watched and guarded, preferably by someone who isn't herself.

Rima coughs lightly next to me, her golden hair loose around her slender shoulders and half her face hidden in deep shadows, shoulders straight and head bowed forwards. I wonder what her thoughts are on returning to the house; unable to penetrate the emotional mask that has become gradually more opaque since we arrived at Cross Academy; since our parents untimely deaths.

She flicks one of her fingers rhythmically and her mouth twitches downwards for a split second before her face melts back into apathy. The buckles of her black shoes sparkle under the street lamps spotlight. She is the picture of composure, but the twitch of her lips convinces me that on the inside she feels the same way I do; confused and sombre. I suppose, even if Rima's attempts to hide her own emotions are usually successful, I am still adept at finding the holes in the barrier.

A long screech slices the silence, beeping in and out; a siren. Our driver pulls to the curb and drums his fingers on the steering wheel, his moustache flicking in annoyance. After several moments of waiting, a black and white car whizzes by us and our driver swings back onto the road, glancing at the clock on his dashboard. The flashing numbers seem to annoy him still more, as he pushes on the gas pedal, driving on the heels of the car in front of us aggressively.

I wonder if I should reassure the man that we don't mind being a few minutes late, but my mouth remains closed as we slide down the crowded streets of Japan. I watch the people who flash in and out of view, blurs on the sidewalk, the late night stragglers doing who knows what.

Large neon signs beckon me into the various restaurants and stores lining the streets and I look on with growing interest, the city scene almost entirely new to me as I haven't yet taken the liberty to leave the grounds of Cross Academy and my life before boarding school was spent mostly in the refines of our mansion and it's grounds.

Actually, the only time I've ever really explored the city was the night when I first sampled blood from a human. There are a good many humans wandering around city streets, their shoulders slumped and their feet moving quickly or their heads tilted in laughter as they wander the sidewalks in large groups, pushing past each other to be the centre of attention.

I blink and turn away from the window and focus my attention instead on my knees, arranging the skirt I'm wearing in a pointless attempt to occupy myself.

Shadows swim through the interior of the car as we drive, the city lights gradually dimming and the crowds thinning and we fight our way out of the main streets and away from the traffic and buildings, the urban back drop receding.

The car swings to the right, past numerous houses with black lawns and dark windows. We eventually reach the long driveway that leads to our mansion, its huge form crouching in the darkness. The trees reach towards our car as though welcoming us back to the house, but the greeting seems to hide cruel intentions, the dark branches bare and skeleton like, snow hunched on their narrow fingers.

The car stops in front of my fountain, the one I spent a good deal of my life gazing into. I clamber out of the car and fall to my knees in front of it, brushing my fingers over the basin that used to hold crystal waters, my eyes wide.

A large, hideous crack runs along the marble, gaping and out of place. No liquid spouts out of the head. My fountain is broken and unusable.

Rima walks past me, glancing only briefly in my direction before walking up the steps and drifting in the door without bothering to knock. The driver takes the car back down our drive way and out of sight.

The grass around my fountain is especially green and lush, telling me that water had leaked out of the crack. I gasp. Water expands when frozen. And it split my fountain.

I reach into the basin and run my fingers along the bottom, letting my hair fall into my face and a tear trickle down my cheek. I can't help but feel attached to the fountain, so many times I had admired it's beauty, watched the sky's reflection quiver in its depths, played with the water it held and sat on its cool edge. It had become my escape, something I used to need and depend on. An inanimate object, but it had become important to me. It had been my release, where I could fight with my emotions.

I sob and no one is around to hear.

**I don't know why, but I really wanted to send Sora to her parents' funeral and have her back at the fountain... the fountain being broken wasn't planned at all though...  
**


	20. Interlude

**I hope it's as easy for you to tell between the character POVs as it is for me. If it isn't, I may add names before I switch.**

**I can't think of chapter names. I also call things "Part 1" and then give them no "Part 2". This time, however; there will be a Part 2. First, though, because I forgot Part 2, there will be an Interlude. **

**Interlude**

A comforter lays sprawled across the floor, several different articles of clothing hang out of their drawers, a pillow sits in the middle of my bed, and a few pairs of shoes are scattered on the floorboards. My jewelry box is overflowing with chains, an old music box sits open and unwound on my bed side table. I can hardly believe that I had left my side of the room in such obvious disarray.

Rima sits neatly on the edge of her own bed, snapping on a golden locket. The heavy heart rests on her collar and glints dimly in the moonlight streaming through the window. My sister's hair is flowing around her shoulders, a golden halo for her angelic face.

I begin to tidy my half of the bedroom, feeling oddly robotic; my movements automatic. My music box tinkles as I brush it with my wrist, the sound somehow sorrowful and pleading, poking my heart. _You abandoned me, _it says, _you turned away. _And it's telling the truth. I am suddenly strangely guilty for running off to the school my parents never really intended to send me to, for leaving them dead in the middle of the floor. For thinking the way I did about them, for hating and loving them at the same time. I wonder if I'm the only person who feels this way about their family, who feels this way about _anything_.

Rima sits and twirl a lock of beautiful hair around her slim finger, watching me.

I try not to cry.

* * *

Daichi smiles at me; that "please don't yell at me smile". I know he's done something, but today I don't really care enough to do anything about it.

Today, I'm going back home, to the mother I love so dearly, who needs me, who relies on me, who sold her soul.

I run a hand over the faint scars from where that wretched Sora chomped down on my neck. Mum will be so disappointed. I shudder. I know she'll pull me into her pale arms and lace her fingers through my hair and tell me she loves me and it'll be okay and it's not my fault and she just loves me _so much. _But she'll be worried. I don't like it when she's worried. She deserves so much better.

Daichi watches me gather my bags with those too big eyes and refuses to pull them off me. I can't help but smile; he's just _so damn scared! _

He flinches as my mouth curls. He knows why I'm smiling. Sort of. He knows I smile at his fear, his pain, his sadness. He thinks I'm just a sadistic little… well, he better not think I'm little! I lurch forward, making him jump. If he ever thought I was small, I hope I just scared the thought right out of him. Mainly though, I smile at the control I have over my pathetic little (who's little now?) roommate. I smile because he wouldn't dare look down on me, certainly not. Even if it's forced, I know how much he respects me.

Well, fear and respect are practically synonyms in my opinion, and I usually prefer operating through the former.

My side of the room is now completely empty. I can tell Daichi is anxious for my departure.

I turn to him, smirking. "Maybe I won't go after all. I might want to make sure nothing has been broken in the room, so I can find the culprit more easily. The sooner the better, I think."

Daichi chews at his lip, but he almost smiles. He knows I'm only kidding. He's starting to realize I'm mostly talk. This could pose a problem. I leave anyway. I really was just kidding.

I don't like him though. I wasn't sparing him because I think I might end up liking him either, because I won't.

The door clicks behind me, and I hoist my patched suitcase over my shoulder, imagining what the neighbours will say when I show up in one of the school's limos. I know that, really, they won't care. Now our neighbours are as rich as we are; which is weird for me. For a second there I almost thought I would be going back to the old house, the one with the leaking sink that used to drip, drip, drip me to sleep every night, where the people would've dropped dead over the pure majesty of the shining vehicle I'm now climbing into.

But of course I don't miss it, no way. I'm not nostalgic and I don't care about moving. I do, however; care about the sacrifices my mother made to send me here, letting those men take her blood, allowing them in our home and accepting money for the thick crimson liquid that runs in her veins. Greedily they took from her, and she played right along with them, just for the cash.

I hate vampires.

* * *

I lay on my back on my bed, sometimes whistling and sometimes listening to the minds of people in the school, out of boredom. I try really hard not to think of how mean that is, intruding on their petty thoughts, because I have too much on my own mind and losing myself in other's sounds like a fair escape to me.

I tilt my head when a very interesting conversation melts into my mind and settles itself like a kitten, crouched and ready to pounce. I giggle a little. Kittens wiggle when they crouch. It takes me a second to realize that the conversation is outside the door and not in my own head, drifting from some other part of the school. Gosh, telepathy is confusing.

I huff and start to hum again, low almost to the point of being inaudible, and swing my stockinged feet onto the cold floor. I wish they would put some nice fuzzy carpets in here, so I could walk around without shoes and still be relatively warm.

The two people part when I walk out. Aido and Kain, I notice. I don't know why they chose Sora and I's door to talk in front of and I don't ask, just walk off down the hall, deciding to go outside and wishing I had put shoes on. Oh, well.

I hope I don't get too bored, staying here for Winter Break and all. The air is crisp, the darkness engulfing, and I pad through it like an intruder, necklaces jingling and skirt swishing. I walk for a long time, passing buildings and finally arriving and the low built stable area, where the occasional stamp and snort of a horse is the only sound in the night.

I listen to the silence, still humming out of habit even though I know I don't need to anymore. I have never been able to read animals, which is one of the reasons I like this place. It's the only area of Cross Academy where I can truly be alone in my head, where other people don't confuse my thoughts with their mind-babble.

The barn door creaks a little as I open it, grating through the dirt and leaving scratch marks in its wake. An array of different sized helmets and saddlery loom behind the partially open tack room door, smelling of leather and saddle soap and warmth.

My feet merely whisper against the ground and I feel a part of the shadows and silence. The horses fidget and kick at their stalls, occasionally whinnying shrilly, but I ignore them. I think they should just get over themselves. I seat myself in a niche near the bathing area, under one of the dim lights that are almost always on and between a stall and the concrete wall that always seems damp, even though it's always dry. I rest my head and stop humming, laughing at myself for continuing until now.

Someone with a very fierce personality's thoughts raid my unprepared head and I grit my teeth and start to hum again. That anger can only belong to one person: Zero Kiryu. Even Klutz has some unhidden softness in his little head, some love and some hope, left exposed because really, I think he's waiting for someone to notice it and see him as the cutie he really is. Zero, on the other hand, hides all the good emotions, even in his head. It's seriously hard to deal with. The guy needs to lighten up.

I pick myself up off the ground and bend to pluck at the ends of my stockings, liking how the fabric pokes out at the end of my toes. I don't really want to be here if Zero's here too, even if I can't see him. The kid cramps my style. Well, he would if I really had one.

"Tarot? What are you doing here?" he asks like it's not my right to be sneaking around in the middle of the night, like I need to be reprimanded.

"It is." I tell him. Whoops. Elaborate, please. "It is my right to be sneaking around in the middle of the night, I mean. What are you doing here?"

He glares at me, looking like a puffed out bird. I wait for him to twitter madly, and he does.

"I am a prefect at this school and have the right to be wherever I please, to protect the humans who live here."

He is winding himself up. I need to get out of here.

Instead, like the fool I am, I ask, "What might you be protecting them from, Zed?"

I say it a little too nonchalantly, I think, because his glare goes from "I think I hate you" to "I think I may need to kill you now" on the intensity scale and he starts yelling his birdy guts out.

I just walk away. I will need to wash these stockings now. I hope they don't have any holes in the bottoms.

I glance over my shoulder at Zero when he stops yelling, surprised to see him looking somewhat confused. "You're just going to walk away from me?" He says it more like it's a demand, his words still painted with anger. I guess this isn't what the other vamps do when he blows a gasket.

"Yep." I chirp before slipping out the door.

**Xavier is a mama's boy. And I know the horses should have been more fearful, but I wrote this remembering that Zero had tamed that horse so I thought "Vampires must be good with horses." I had forgotten that, really, horses hate them. Let's just say that these horses are tamer than the one Yuuki rode and that Zero's comforting presence outweighed their fear of Tarot. **


	21. Paying Respect Part 2

**So I am entering this story in a contest. Constructive criticism is now not only welcome, but pleaded for XD**

**Paying Respect Part 2**

I stand next to Rima, almost wishing I could take her hand in my own, but knowing I can't. Two beautiful caskets of a stunning mahogany sit deep in the dark soil behind the mansion, surrounded by stoic vampires all clad in shimmering black. Not a single face betrays any emotion, and I try not to either, though it all feels wrong. My parents' friends are all acting acutely bored, as though attending a rather uninteresting lecture. I know that feeling, but this is certainly not the time for it.

Rima clears her throat lightly and several people excuse her. I love that her face is showing some of the sorrow that I'm feeling and I instantly chastise myself for it. I know I shouldn't delight at her sadness, but I can't help but wish someone, _anyone, _would show some emotion at my parents' funeral.

Each vampire seems to blend with the other, and I know I have started to cry. Thick tears block my vision and Rima daintily clears her throat again. I keep watching my feet, tilting my head so my bangs block most of my face. I can see Rima's hand smoothing down the liquid fabric of her dress and the reflection of gentle moonlight on her shoes and I watch as a light wind ruffles the lace trim at the hem of her black gown. My cheeks sting with tears and the sharp breeze feels like a knife against my exposed skin.

I raise my head, blinking furiously and look briefly at the crowd nestled around my parents' soon to be graves, everyone silent as though mourning. Tucked between the shoulders of two pretty Level B's, a petite brunette with large green eyes and a tall blonde with eyes like shards of ice, stands Shiki Senri. His hands are deep in the pockets of his jacket, his hair messy as always. Rima clears her throat again, softly, and Shiki half smiles at her. They communicate so easily, equally calm and still.

I duck my head again, closing my eyes. I don't need to think about Shiki now. Now is not the time to be jealous of what he and RIma so obviously have together. Now is certainly not the time to wonder if Shiki and I could ever be so close and trusting, if we could ever be as good friends, or more; hopefully more.

After most of the vampires are done staring at my parents' coffins and someone somehow lifts a mound of dirt over the hole in the ground, covering them forever, the group moves into the mansion, where fine wine and expensive food waits.

Everyone shifts and talks nonchalantly, sipping at their glasses and delicately nibbling at the food that could never quench our hungers like fresh blood, but we eat all the same.

I let myself look at Shiki again. I can't help the warmth that settles in my cheeks when his eyes meet mine. I also can't help the small knot that twists in my stomach when Rima glides towards him and pushes a glass of red wine into his pale hands. She glances at me briefly and I know my sister is upset by the feelings she knows I must have for her childhood friend. She pulls Shiki into the small crowd and out of my sight. Reticently we play tug of war with the tall redhead and Rima's hold on him is so much stronger.

I drift through the people talking and drinking. The post funeral party is nothing like a ball, where the atmosphere is somehow festive despite the emotionless guests. The air is stale and the conversation, though in the same bored droll that is usual for vampires, seems sombre. They talk of what will happen to the children. They don't call Rima and me by name. We are simply the kids of two very fine people who are now dead and no longer very important. Poor us.

Eventually guests begin to retreat back to their regular lives, relatively unchanged by the events here. They address their condolences to my Aunt, many of them taking one of her hands in their own and nodding solemnly, almost like they really care. I think of escaping my room, but part of me wants to speak to Shiki. The other, much larger part, wants to hide and avoid the awkwardness that I'm certain only I am feeling.

I cave into the part of me that wants to run and exit the room, trying to look formal and unaffected by anything. I wish my parents had taken the time to love me a little more before they died. I wish Shiki would love me too. I wish I could stop thinking about him.

A warm hand wraps around my forearm, stopping me. I look up into the distant gaze of Shiki, the very person I was trying to avoid and talk to at the same time. His shoulders are squared, his demeanour is temperate, and his eyes are unemotional, but the line of his mouth tilts downwards a fraction with what my suddenly fluttering heart hopes is concern.

Rima's pigtailed head appears next to his right shoulder and Shiki's hand slowly releases my arm. My sister asks Shiki if he would like to escort her outside and my whole head screams "No! He would not like to go outside, he's speaking with me!" My mouth smiles at her and stays silent.

Shiki slips his hands back in his pockets and pauses before drawing out a stick of pocky and handing it to Rima. She smiles subtly before turning for the door. Obviously the gift of candy is a yes.

"I would like a quick word with Sora first, Rima." Shiki's voice washes over me like a soothing rain. I try not to seem overly triumphant as Rima watches me and nods at Shiki before slipping out of the ballroom and making her way into the night.

"I am sorry for your loss." Shiki's voice is even and free of hesitation, but he shifts back onto his heels slightly. I wonder if he doesn't know exactly what to say to me.

"Thank you." I murmur, watching the light from a tall white candle sitting on the dining table throw shadows across the ivory of his smooth skin.

"I hope you are not having a difficult time. You seem upset often." He pauses and lets a few strands of hair fall over his shoulders.

I nod, wondering if Shiki could possibly be worried about me and why words only continue in my head. The candle holder pools with sweet smelling wax and the wick is black behind the dancing flame. Shiki reaches out a hand to touch my shoulder before turning to leave.

"I'm alright." I tell him, smiling. Finally, I can speak again.

Shiki nods again and plunges a hand into the pocket of his dark jacket. I watch, curious, as he extracts a stick of pocky and offers it to me. I accept the sweet and roll it between my fingers, my blush deepening. Then Shiki smiles and it punctures his unreadable eyes with gentle warmth. I pop the pocky into my mouth and thank him around its chocolaty coating, letting my bangs stray away from my eyes.

"You're welcome, Yoru Sora." Shiki's small smile doesn't fade and I keep my eyes locked on that subtle curve until he leaves the ballroom. The knot in my stomach loosens. Shiki finally smiled for me.

**Alright, I know this chapter's very short, but for the contest I am writing in a different format. Instead of chapters, I have break every time I switch POV's and just write the character's name. It looks fancier, but it wouldn't work on fanfiction, else chapters 1-6 would all be one group. Anyway, the writing for the competition is a little ahead of posting because I don't have as many chances to post now, so I had to just take this part, because I want the next bit to be the next chapter. Woo. **

_**Sort Of Important**_**: I am mentioning the pen names of all my wonderful reviewers with the people who have helped me with this story, because, really, the reviews are very helpful. **


	22. A Good Friend

**I am sorry for the long absence! My old computer officially died and has been retired. I have a new one, which is great. The only problem is that this new one doesn't have the right programs yet, so I have no writing program at all. I hope to remedy this as soon as possible. **

**A Good Friend**

_**Rima**_

A slight breeze lifts my hair, if it's cold, I don't really feel it. I can't help but wonder what Shiki and Sora are talking about, and my imagination runs away, something I rarely let it do. Could Shiki be confessing the feelings he harbours for my sister? I know she doesn't notice the way he looks at her, but I sure do. I notice because, when Shiki's glass eyes trace my own face, they are empty of anything but friendship. When he watches Sora flit around like a nervous sparrow, his gaze softens; he smiles. And she doesn't even notice. I'm the only one who does. I wonder, though, why doesn't Shiki see how I can't help but love him with my whole being, why can't he see that I crave his presence?

I tap my foot on the ground; let the sound reverberate in the emptiness, though it doesn't last long in the vastness of the world. Soon it fades, and it is silent once more.

With a sudden click, the door to the mansion opens and Shiki steps onto the sprawling lawn, skirts the broken fountain that caused my sister so much grief (though what is her grief over a carving of marble to mine over a stolen love?) and seats himself on the bench beside me.

"What was your purpose in asking me here, Rima?" He asks softly, watching the driveway and leaning over his legs in a lax manner, his long red bangs casting his face into deep shadow.

"I wish to speak to you." I respond, curling my hands in my lap and staring blankly into the void of darkness and the city lights in the distance.

"What of?" Shiki responds, and he reaches into his pocket for more pocky. Strawberry this time. I accept his offer, glad that he is generous, as I forgot all my pocky in the dorm back at Cross Academy. His hand brushes against mine. I don't want him to pull back, but at the same time, I feel like it's drawn on for to long, a subtle form of torture, a glimpse of what I fear I can't have.

"Do you..." I stop. "Shik, I..."

His head tilts towards me and his face is a vague question mark. "Go on." He whispers into the silence.

"Do you want to accompany me to town?"_Do you love me? _

"Of course, Rima." He answers, and for a second, my heart jumps and I squeeze my hands like sponges, wondering if the happiness that is running through me will seep right through them and splash us like rain. Then I remember what I said: Do you want to accompany me to town? The happiness doesn't wring out and no rain falls.

"I think I will ask Sora to join us." Shiki says thoughtfully, pulling his deep red tie away from around his neck so it hangs more loosely. One of the buttons on his suit is undone, and the black fabric flaps in the wind. He looks so relaxed, so carefree. He has what he wants, and what he wants is Sora's attention. "Is that a good idea, Rima?" His eyes plead behind the mist that swirls in them and protects his inner thoughts. We wants my opinion... on whether he should ask out my sister.

"I think she is greatly affected by our parents' deaths. The funeral has been emotional for her. I think she will want to stay here." My voice is so steady, so even, Shiki doesn't read through the coldness crouched behind the words.

I don't feel bad about trying to keep Shiki and Sora apart, and I don't take the time to wonder what her feelings must be about the matter. I don't feel selfish for it, either, as I know Shiki belongs with me, with the person who played in the sandbox with him for his whole childhood, who gave him a turn on the swing and shared her toys with him. Sora never made mud cakes in the back yard with him or snuck cookies from the pantry. Sora doesn't have so many wonderful memories of a young Shiki racing the other vampire children, playing scientist and telling everyone he was conducting important experiments, before we grew up and became respectable. Sora always sat inside with her books and her pictures, sitting at the window watching us with that free smile of hers.

"She may also wish to escape this place, where her despairs began." Shiki adds wisely. I jump; awakened from my reverie, then wonder if he ever really wanted my opinion at all, if he was planning to invite her despite what I would say. Could his mind be made up? Am I too late to have his heart?

"Do as you wish." I tell him, coughing lightly and standing. "I am going for a walk. Find me when you are ready to leave."

Shiki nods and stands as well, resting his pale hand on my arm for a moment and looking deeply sincere. "Thank you Rima. Thank you for being such a good friend."

I nod. Good friend indeed.

**I know this is short, but I don't have much time to write until I get a writing program to use!**


End file.
